I could stand still
if I knew where I was headed,
but the light is gone long since;
I have lost my destination (or destiny)
in the fog.

To walk is stumbling steps,
starting, stopping, striking stones
before my faltering feet –

But not to walk – to wait,
that’s worse,
an unstealthy insecurity,
fear of susceptibility
to unknown presences of the dark.

My moving feet beat back the terror from my heart
but worlds still weigh wearily. . .

Hoof-beats from behind
overtake and pass me by.
I yearn for such a swift steed to carry me
to something beyond now.

But beneath the burning wish
I know it would be no escape:
Escape to where, and what?

What is out there
in the dark or in the dawn
for me. . .

© Samuel Birrer and Serendipity, 2017.

This entry was posted in Free Verse and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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