Quiet confusion

From the moments of unknown

Blow over like the wind on frozen snow

Yet the confusion is thick as fog

And heavy as lead

One could conclude what is forgotten

Could be left for dead

But the jokers face painted on the kings throne

Has become all to well known

For being the jackal of trades

Knowing nothing wide or far

So know that the real confusion

Is not in the print in front of you

But rather in the depths of the quiet

When you are alone in search of

What is good in this life