what faces us is nothing

at the day's end we won't have reached our goal
the journey does not cease when we've arrived
each turn of the wheel from its source is derived
each of us plays is given a not-so-simple role
we move blindly through our tunnels like a mole
our hopes like our protections are contrived
by those who've seen more torment and survived
we want to get through with our spirits whole
what fear drives us from night to monstruous night
will keep us going when the sun is risen high
and hope has been exalted when plainest noon
leaves little room for shadows and the truest sight
lies open then to the honest searching eye
then only then will we have got our boon