Lost

On a dark day in December I was lost.

On a sunny evening on a bench in a train station in October I saw beauty but I was lost.

In the arms of my family at Christmas I was lost.
On a boat in the Mediterranean I whispered sweet everythings but I was lost.

On the other side, the underside, of the world I studied and wrote but I was lost.

In the every pub of my past I stood at a bar, sat at a table, lived in the bottom of an empty glass but I was equally lost.

At the height of my ambition and achievement I was that little bit more lost.

In insignificance the comfort of sadness left me feeling less lost but, in truth, I was just as lost.

I asked and hoped for help, for salvation but I was lost.

I sold my soul to the devil and I was no more lost than when I presented it to God.

I wrote for endless years and eternities about how lost I was, reflecting upon the result as lessons learned, not knowing I was losing myself ever more.

I am lost and will, along with you and everyone, remain forever lost.