As A Child

Am I stuck, alone and cold?

Ever shall I seek where the wind would once blow?

Am I to freeze, to melt into stone?

Or shall I burn in a pyre, story untold?

‘A fortune earned is a fortune spent’,

Said in a tale once told, older than time.

A voice from above, a pitiful cry.

A child I am, lost and unmoored,

A child I will die, still seeking some accord.

Though the fire burns and the flame stays true,

Still I must my fortune, rue.

Yet is it not me, that grumbler in chains?

Is it not me who decides what to play?

A child I am, willful and wild,

A child I will die,

Still.

Silent.