The Dark Journey

The Dark Journey Authored by Chuck Keys The solitary man walks a thin line, With no front or back, Nor left nor right, Alone, among no others. His trees have no branches, Nor leaves, nor fruit, With no growth or death, Needs no nourishment. Within himself he stands, Fearless and fearful, Patiently searching his soul, Neither strength nor weakness. The solitary man reeks of timelessness, With no friend nor foe, Not bright nor dark, Timidly under the calm of his pending end. His beginning, a shallow emptiness, Uncherished empty years followed, Bitter to taste what was never there, He morbidly ends as he lived, alone.