The Ever Blinding Light
I am naught but walking bones
I have walked these roads searching for
a way out of this old, forgotten maze.
Thorns reach out for more
fresh skin to pierce, I travel in a daze.
As walls give way to trees, carpet to dirty stone
no stars shine here, but ahead I see a glow.
Is the light a place for me alone?
As I walk there’s whispers, voices in a row
they say I don’t belong, I am naught but walking bones.
As I walk the light grows, now I see each face;
they are bloated and yet made of stone.
Is life just a nightmare, are we all in search of grace?
On the road my memories I cannot hope to fight,
I walk, and they follow, to the ever blinding light.
About the Creator
Varian Ross
Horror author and poet. Published with Ghost Orchid Press and Horror Tree.
On Twitter @VarianRoss
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