In the fog before me

A dark shape rises,

Takes on the form of a black-cloaked man

With outsretched, warning hand.

A deep voice in my head

Tells me to turn around

And look back up the long road

That I've come so far down.

I know I cannot take

This uphill road I see,

The steep incline so like a wall;

I know I don't have that strength in me.

So I turn back and look on down the road

Where the ominous figure looms.

I have two options left to me,

I don't know if I have the power to choose.

Whether to just stop

And sit beside the road,

And wait for an eagle to pick me up

And bear me away on the wind.

And eagle I know will never come,

Will never hear my cry.

An eagle there may be for some,

But none for such as I.

But it's so much easier to just go on

Slipping and sliding down this road,

Where long ago I lost my footing.

There's no way for me to grab hold

And stop the inevitable descent

Into that gaping black hole

That I know awaits me at the end,

Where, robbed of all power, I go.