This is not the way I thought it would be
The light at the end of the tunnel
Is not as bright as the stories said
It is barely visible from the Unreal City
The path is dusty and the doors lie
On rusted hinges swaying in the wind
The wind funnels down this dark corridor
Screaming through the cracks under the doors
Breathing life into those who are stuck behind its bars
Who didn’t or couldn’t quite make it there
Trapped with iron grips on cold prison walls
Clinging with the fervor of rage
Embittered to the roots of their soul
Screaming back at the wind
With tortured shrieks of terrors unknown
As the breeze whispers into their ears
Taunting melodies of the songs sung
At the end, behind that backlit door
That will remain just faints murmurs
Of a world hidden from them
By the darks gates of the city they built around them
As they watch with sunken and darkened eyes
From the prisons that they sealed themselves in
Watching the slow progression of shadows
Drawn like moths to the light
That seems to grow dimmer at every passing moment
Monsters pace in these dark rooms
Consuming the light at every moment that door is opened
Leaving no light for those who need it
To guide their passage down this dark corridor
The way is lost but we find ourselves not in a dark wood
But a desolate earth
Where the monsters roam not behind closed doors
But in the light for all to see
The light is gone and we must find the way back
There is no Virgil here, no Beatrice to lend a hand
Just the blind hands that reach out for light
Not knowing what it looks like or how it feels
We are lost, I am lost
Listening to the screams in the wind
Trying to sift out the song that may not be for me
But is so close I can taste it
The door is left unlocked
And this unreal city is not home to me
I promise
This dust will not be all that is left of me
Posts Tagged ‘heaven’
Dis
Monday, May 21st, 2012Posted in Photos, Poetry |
One Man’s Trash…
Sunday, September 5th, 2010Wheelchair
Monday, January 4th, 2010This photo makes me really sad every time I look at it. Even in Paradise there are reminders that even though this place feels like heaven, it isn’t.
An empty wheelchair sitting in the shade viewing the beautiful young people on the beach bathing in the sun and swimming in the water.
It weighs down on my heart. I wonder who sits in that chair. What that person must feels as they sit there and watch this scene with a heavy heart wishing that they could join in.
What makes me wonder even more is why is the chair empty? Did the person leave finally fed up with this, could they not take it anymore? Or maybe, just maybe that person got up and joined all those people who said they never could because of their handicap.
How hard would that be? To me it is unfathomable. Exile is a very real thing, all around us, we have to take a moment from our lives and step back to look not at our lives but at the lives of those around us. There is so much tragedy and yet so much joy in all the people around you but it seems like no one ever notices. So take a step back look at that empty wheelchair and ask yourself, what if it was me? You never know, one day it might be you, waiting for fate to finally turn in your favor again.