the existential calvinist

Grew up in a box

Never stopped to look outside

Was frightened by the world around me

Oh Mario! Hide me from the goombas!

But walk away I did

To a land of color and light

Like a hobo wandering down the tracks

Bag on my shoulder, time on my side

Now I reach the end of the journey

With sadness I meet the end

Yet as the journey was an end to the old

So must the journey end itself

New quests loom on the horizon

Even as the old one is left behind