Here we are again

Here we are again, and as groundlings go
Stiff-armed through a hazy maze of souls
Treading round life's “merely thus” and “just so,”
Hope-fed wanderers without a goal.

Though blind and timeless as dreaming egos,
Though blitzed and witless as new-birthed foals
Who stumble upright without knowing how
We touch each other while shouldering shoals.

Two swimmers, caught in clasps, will drown
While paired porpoises dauntlessly play
Their thousand doubtless hours almost as one,
Touching but as frolic bids them stray.

So we, blind rounds encased in caustic cares,
Should play at light and sight, however unaware.