With Scepter in hand,
in cornfield she stands.
If you can complete the poem...please comment :)
Strange, to wander in the fog.
Each bush and stone stands alone,
No tree sees the next one,
Each is alone.
My world was full of friends
When my life was filled with light,
Now as the fog descends
None is still to be seen.
Truly there is no wise man
Who does not know the dark
Which quietly and inescapably
Separates him from everything else.
Strange, to wander in the fog,
To live is to be alone.
No man knows the next man,
Each is alone.