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Poem

In times of transition, as we walk a tightrope of hopelessness, the shadow comes to claim us.
The shadow descends, reminding us that there is no way out of the endless darkness.
The shadow screams at the top of its lungs, “there is no hope my child.
Your destiny is to wander in dark places with quenchless thirst for a new beginning.”
The shadow surreptitiously insinuates itself into every aspect of our perception.
The shadow ensures that when trials come they descend like an avalanche,
And we feel like the darkness is infinite and that all things begin and end in suffering.
But all shadows need light to accent their darkness.
There can be no shadow without light.
And while a shadow is delimited by shape and form, light is endless and eternal.
There can be no shadow without light, and the light from which the shadow garners strength is endless and eternal.
I do not express this through emotion or inspiration, as my emotions are buried beneath the debris of depression’s languid odor.
All I sense and smell, all I feel or see is darkness enveloping me in the deception of the shadow.
But there is a knowledge of light that cannot be vanquished.
And it is with this knowledge that I declare that all shadows must eventually succumb to the light which begets them.
And this light is wondrous and glorious.
This light is more than enough to lift me to the sky and beyond.
And so I say, even in the grips of hopelessness, that light is the truth of all things and this light has claimed me.

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