Journey's End--A Poem

I’m all but forgotten

I live all alone

No one understands me

I am an unknown

Life’s path leads me forward

I walk without care

I move toward the forest

Risk on a dare

The road is in shadow

I can’t see the light

No one to guide me

When day turns to night

I soon lose my way

Despair holds me fast

No hope of salvation

This dare is my last

I played all the games

Until I grew tired

I surrendered a soul

Too long uninspired

The trail splits ahead

Which path will be mine?

The shortest of course

I’ve run out of time

I’ve come to the end

None to placate me

No place to call home

No road to safety

I walk to the edge

My moment of truth

Hope gone from my heart

Fled with my youth

I stand at the brink

Unwanted, unloved

I jump from the edge

I am not shoved

I awake with a start

Glad to be aware

That all this was just

A dreadful nightmare

When I wrote this simple verse, my mind was drawn to a poem written several weeks ago by H.C. Porter entitled, “The Rain Drips from her Fingertips.” If you are not familiar with her work, I invite you to follow the link to read her poem in its entirety. She wrote in such a poignant manner, “Perhaps the world has already gotten the best out of me.” That was very much how I felt while writing these words. For the first time in my life, I found myself believing I have less to offer the world than I once did. When did I reach the top of whatever mountain I was climbing? Why do I notice the descent far more than the upward climb? Am I alone in feeling this way? I suspect not.

Life is good. The thoughts expressed here are linked to my sometimes-heavy heart, but melancholy and I are not inseparable. There are good days and bad days, and sorrow can become the impetus for seminal events. Perhaps this is one of those moments…..

Thank you for reading.