The night sets softly
With the hush
of falling leaves
Casting shivering
shadows
On the houses
through the trees
And the light from
a street lamp
Paints a pattern
on my wall
Like the pieces
of a puzzle
Or a child's
uneven scrawl
Up a narrow
flight of stairs
In a narrow
little room
As I lie
upon my bed
In the early
evening gloom
Impaled
on my wall
My eyes can
dimly see
The pattern
of my life
And the puzzle
that is me
From the moment
of my birth
To the instant
of my death
There are patterns
I must follow
Just as I must
breathe each breath
Like a rat
in a maze
The path
before me lies
And the pattern
never alters
Until the rat dies
And the pattern
still remains
On the wall where
darkness fell
And it's fitting
that it should
For in darkness
I must dwell
Like the color
of my skin
Or the day
that I grow old
My life is
made of patterns
That can scarcely
be controlled