In a mirage

The stars call out to him in rage

The bludgeonings of the very beginning

Anticipating his epiphany

The black age of oblivion

Blinds him from seeing the beacon

A step away from conceit

If only he could trust his gut

Tick tock, tick tock

Time sings its evanescent ballad

As he steps from the cliff of the rock

Into his ‘destined’

His choice

His distinction