when did you lose your way? what of the compass you once held next to the beat of your heart, its chain running through your veins, a golden blood? it lies, now, on the floor, kept only for show. didnŐt, once, you follow its needle straight north, a glance to either side forbidden? and now, now as you lie next to it, run the chain through your grasp, has it gone tarnished, or have you gone blind?