QUEST:

© 1982 by Lydia Glider
Massive confusion: The mind’s troubled eye.
No answers within, and no faith on high…

Soul – searching sadness opens the gate:
Once in the middle, no way to escape.
Life – haunting memories, heartache and woe:
For the past never passes, it’s got nowhere to go.
Love, hate, and wonder…which feeling’s felt?
No one to turn to, no one can help.

What is the answer? Does it have a name?
Truth’s just a word, is it only a game?

I hear no voices, I see no strange things:
So I’m ready to fly…a bird on the wing.
Everyone plies me for answers, when I still haven’t found one myself.
I know they don’t want to hurt me: They’re only crying for help.
One victory I’ve made, I am master of my own:
But somehow I believe I’ve raised the blade
That will strike me down from your petty throne.
I can’t keep it all inside, and advisors are not handy… I want to run and hide, but to do so is not so dandy:
I know.
Everyone’s problems are becoming mine, and I, their own, as well:
For it’s just a vicious circle, grinding us all in the teeth of hell.