Forward I push,
worn and weary,
beaten to the core,
laying blame behind
like tracks to find,
festered like a sore.
A banished beacon
that lit my way
is no longer my guiding light.
Fore all I see
is endless dark,
as slowly I lose my sight.
Searching blindly,
I feel my way
through this bitter blur.
Trying to hide
from an evil,
I'm fearful I may stir.
Mile after weary mile,
I trek at all cost,
hoping to see,
again someday,
the guiding light I lost.
©chrisjones
C