A Light Down The Tunnel

A light down the tunnel,
how I wish I knew its meaning;
the darkened clouds parting,
but if only I knew why.
Silhouettes of what's to come
and what I shall become,
but may I never once more kiss
an angel's lips before I fly?

In my reflection, introspection
looms—like Fates that spin their thread—
to measure who I am and not
and cut the death ere I'm cut dead.
I cannot safely plot the path;
I know not where it leads,
but still I venture down its course
to face my fears of deepest dread,
and from them to be freed.

A light down the tunnel,
how I wish I knew its source;
if only I knew why these clouds
of ash went smold'ring earth.
The dark, I've heard, is darker still
before the dawn breaks through,
but I shall light a light inside
these mortal bones ere dawn's in view.

What I've followed further faster
than all else with pure intent
has led me to the tallest mountains
through the deepest, darkest marshes,
over hill and under hedge
while being my own sacrament:
A northern star to guide my feet
when the dark of night has taken hold;
a softly whispered word of passion
speaking low that I must listen
past the realms and planes of reason,
past the fear-filled words I'm fed,
to find the path to its abode
in this universe's web.

A light down the tunnel,
and I know not where it shines
nor what will happen when I reach it,
but perhaps I'll find
that as I step into its brilliance —
all-consuming with its fire —
'round me shall I turn my eyes
to see a silken silhouette
come stumbling up that very tunnel
through which I have wandered far,
and, burning bright from deepest passion,
light the path beneath those feet
to guide them like a northern star.