Vagrant thoughts…
Scattered like leaves in an autumn breeze.

A bereaved mind...
Devoid of the once-prominent luminosity on which it throve.

Long ago, the ardor of the young lad's dreams could permeate the deepest recesses of blackness.

His nightly reverie provided for him a glimmering bridge; a suspended rainbow with which he traversed his daily terrors.

Yet, as a man, he came to find that the day had finally caught up with him…

His dreams – once vibrant – had become gray and lifeless; a mirrored visage of the deprived life that he continually fled from…

In the past, inexplicable circumstance had foretold the tragic events of his every waking moment.

He waited in silent acquiescence for eons… yet he knew not what, or whom he waited for…

Perhaps a beacon to lead him to the arms of a caring being?

Maybe a shining messiah who would assist him in the ascension to sanctity of mind?

…The exact origin of his postponed salvation, he would never come to know…

However, he was bestowed with insight enough to grant him this:

'He longed for atonement that that never arrived…
…Restitution that slumbered in the hibernation of ignorance…
…Peace of mind that was denied him by his fellow man.'

Thus he asked himself, "Why must the punishment for the transgressions of my fellows be exacted on me alone?"

"How can I be to blame for my introversion?"…

Voiced with quavering uncertainty, the questions rang through the hollow corridors of despair…

…Those were among the last words he uttered…