tick, ticktack, ticktock
    a cloudy sound persists around
looming lonely in the lightless park

waiting, wandering, or hesitating
    so many of us have ceased
groping our ways out of dark

(hey, no more path appears ahead)
    someone kindly reminds the blind man
(thanks, but your warning is really off the mark)

tick, ticktack, ticktock
    his seeing rod rhyming with the unseen clock
as a fresh path follows hehind his footsteps