Let the words flow. Let the pictures speak


An illusion, it was but all, thy knowledge of it,
the very reason, experience it, thou were keen.
Strike thee, solid, freeze thou, amidst nowhere,
cracking through, thy very belief, then did what.

Gotten to thee, the illusion had, the only logical
explanation; an answer, thy stillness formed to.

Thine company long gone, leaving thee far behind,
fighting thine battle, all by thyself. A little patch,
rugged & rough, it formed, in their minds, never once,
the long, dark tunnel, thine mind, that was taken over by.

End of the tunnel, I initially chose to be, beckoning
thee, towards the light, a victory in the battle.
Eminent, failure, I should have sighted, was.
Something was amiss, back of my mind, it felt.

Walk back, for scared stiff, afraid, the knowledge
I possessed, thou were. Hold thine hand, lead
thee through darkness, where mere guidance,
midst heavy rains, coming across a fire, was like.

My own battle, fighting, waiting all the while,
I was, ready to lend a guiding hand, if need be.
Talk about, thou wished, not to.
Grant thine space, I gladly did.

A chance thought, I sometimes cant help but wonder,
the granted space, taken to be granted, turned out into.

Walking in the darkness, I now am. Where art thou?

– De Nocturnal Poet

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