A strange addictive quality—
The draw of yearning and desire
As though I’m playing hide and seek,
Yet deep down, I don’t want to find you
For the pain and pleasure is the pursuit
The resistance, the obstacles—
Each step a stumble toward a home,
Though I fear what I find will never be enough.
Merely an inn, a halfway place,
It will be the spark alone—
An ember fanned by my own breath
Its flicker swelling into a blinding inferno,
Until I can no longer see the way,
See the truth
Only the figures I manifest—
Dancing…in the flames.
Thus I walk
Willfully ignorant in pursuit of elusive bliss,
I shun the end of the road
For limbo isn’t torment,
If the journey becomes the station.
What do you write after ‘the end’ anyway?
I’d rather die half way than ever pen those words.
Tag: journey
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Walking with Dante
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The Train
The train in silent majesty
Easing along till it ceased
Settling in by the window
I await the visual feastThe train beginning to rumble
Cantering gently into its stride
The scene begins to emerge
Carved in two by the tracks divideIn the distance a settled picture
Rippling clouds in a perfect blue
Unlike the immediate chaos
Blighting a bountiful viewDeciphering what’s before me
In honesty more an attempt
Cocooned in the blur of colour
My senses begin to relentDaydreaming I begin to wonder
Awaiting the journeys end
The train begins to slow
Yet this stop I must transcendThe beauty of this place
Enveloped me in a breath
Stealing the air from within me
So enticing in it’s undressAt once tranquil and exciting
The doors open to reveal more
Crumbling fast I want to wander
So powerful is the rapportAlas I remain seated
Eyes down to stay calm
This is not my destination
I play with the ticket in my palm