A few days ago, I wrote about A Fresh Start. I didn’t realize it at the time, but it’s a sentiment that has been with me for some time now. I think I have come far from when I wrote this poem, which I found while sifting through a bunch of old files, and it gives me a lot of hope.

 

Pallid I trudge through the cold winter’s night,
Not a soul in the wasteland before me,
A biting wind rips through my spirit,
Each second a painful eternity

I know not why I tarry in this desolation prevailing,
I know not whence I came to this timeless desert unchanging
Lost am I in my own mind, a twisted catacomb uncharted,
As the pitiless wind draws at me, from the depths of thoughts long discarded

On and on I drag myself, my feet and back so weary
Knowing not of where I go, nor whether I flee or journey
Seconds, years, pass me by, I know not, care not, which
Deeper, deeper, do I delve, through the inky blackness rich

The ceaseless wind, the bony chill, the brazen ground beneath me
This heartless nowhere swallows all, and leaves me lost and lonely
Trapped am I in my own maze, I stumble forth unknowing
Beaten, battered, hurt, I on, ever wary, ever fearing

Endless goes this painful march, with but one hope of escape,
That this deadly mental labyrinth, I leave behind me in my wake
Relive must I my humble roots, and find my guiding tether,
For dormant lies the power there, to save me from this nether

So, long I trail into the night, scouring for the smallest sign,
That my time has come to stand up tall, and reclaim what truly is mine
Then I will rise up flaming proud, like a phoenix from its ashes,
Reborn, renewed, revitalized, its fiery eyes but steely flashes

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