Kaleidoscope pictures that never will be,
Swim behind eyes that no longer see;
In each: a miniature what, where and when,
An infinitesimal “what could’ve been.”

If I’d not been lazy, anxious, or shy,
If I’d only dared to dream up one more “why?”
Will my long reverie prove only pretend?
Will I leave behind nothing but dust in the wind?

A moment’s repose I never can buy,
Nor can I escape through the close of my eye,
For kaleidoscope visions dance through my head,
They taunt me in turquoise, violet and red.

As I fall down the rabbit-hole,
Impending doom
Follows me into a dimly-lit room,
And there I am merely a brick in the wall,
My life’s greatest fear to which I am thrall.