Poetry, the Light

She pressed on, kept on in the night

The seemingly endless and lonely night

Never gave up, never stopped trying

She felt so hopeless, felt so lost

Mourned countless objects, people, herself

Yet...

She kept walking on

Straight...

...Side-stepped

Straight...

...Up the mountain, down the mountain

Into a tunnel...

"Is that a light?" She had turned

She walked toward the light, into the tunnel

Only to touch, to taste, to feel the desire... but hesitated

It disappeared

She turned around

Ready to start again

Ready to find that light again

Unknowingly, the light was inside of herself all that time.

The light that could fuel her drive, her determination, her passion

Lights outside of body are merely artificial

They guide; they assist

But they are not the driving force

She could have reached out towards her power,

She could have reached the light

Used her light to strive

Run

Sing

Write

Through all of these outlets, she could have made a difference

There would be no hesitation

No more "could have's"

Maybe next time

She will grow; then sprout

Now she knows

She kept on