One day I thought, in the years that

Youth was wasted on my age,

I always expected an epiphany—

A chance to read the last page.

From that thought, there was born

a powerful, menacing obsession:

If I were compliant, I would be blessed with a precious lesson.

Through the stormy nights, I kept

an eye for the light at the end of the tunnel.

My head was held high with each success, and higher when in struggle.

In the end, what was it?

A strange, carnival like celebration?

Or, perhaps it was a sudden knowledge:

There was never to be the revelation.