Brave

I wander down a twisted path

whose ends or means I cannot trace /

hands grope for light and soul for love,

mind craves answers far apace /

within the labyrinth of this dark

and husky shell of feinted faith /

I sift my morrows from the lore,

seek naught but understanding gait /

that I may rise from ashes past

and fetters long laid idly by /

to seek the fortune of the brave--

the outstretched hand, the haunting cry.