To stroll with eyes towards the sky
and never look where feet must step
will miss the snare of fissures in the path,
where light never touches and fear is master.
It is where the climate is thick and suffocating,
in the black void eyes can’t find an escape,
mind erodes of its vision,
life bleeds of its paradise passions.
Survival is the oxygen of the spirit,
easy to deplete when air seems infused
with stench of morgue
embedded in the darkness corners of the abyss.
Yet, after the panic seizure,
beyond fighting the spiders of paranoia,
one learns in the crippling ebony chamber
residing within the head,
stamina serves in that destitute essence
as proof
for the amount of iron there is in the soul.
Discovered in the deepest moments of questioning
is the strength that sleeps within,
telling the heart how hard it can beat
while ascending the slopes of possibilities.
So when the night crawls on the inside
leaving one dreading the gaps in sight,
truth shines in the groping confusion
letting it be the guide
on how far one can truly climb.
Author notes
Prompt:
The depth of darkness to which you can descend and still live is an exact measure of the height to which you can aspire to reach.
A contest entry
- Prompts by Blind Sight.
700 points, ended October 28, 2008, 4 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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I love the line, "one learns in the crippling ebony chamber residing within the head". That is awesome. You are just amazing my newest friend.
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a brilliant take on the promt your words paint a greatness of brevity and a stuning beauty good luck in the contest
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Beautiful and powerful. Thank you for entering.
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