Thoughts - Poem

When the question came,
Pricking at your conscience.

The question of existence,
Of right and wrong.

A random loop,
Of endless thoughts.

Fear kept it a bay,
Or the lack of it.

The taste of it,
Lingered in the mouth.

With hope settling,
Happiness seems to have slipped through.

Turn back the needles,
To the point of return.

A path untrodden,
Would be a journey,
Made better indeed.

A time brimming with the promise,
Of a future with walls of bright colors.

Has it sailed,
Or has it?

For all that was ever yearned for,
Was but a handful of cold.

Photo by Logan Lambert on Unsplash