Thoughts at Midnight

There comes a time
when the young man becomes old
and stops, shakes his head and wonders
how did I get here?
Which turn brought me here
from myriads of directions, hundreds of thousands of steps
that lead to and fro
then back again?

He stands alone seemingly in shadow
bewildered by the darkness
where light once danced
about his footsteps.
As if to say “Follow me. Follow me.”
The lights have faded.
No, that’s not true for they are gone.
Flown hand in hand with time,
hopes, and dreams.

Michael Mathews

05/10/18 revised