Hope

Hope.

I see light shine through a dark cave, hoping someday that I might be saved.

The despondent gloom of a saddened soul grows deeper and deeper like an endless hole.

The mournful howls of a lone pup are a futile cry; the cavernous heart of a demonized boy shall eventually die like a worn stuffed toy at the hands of the man he will soon become.

Then I see my father lie, his soul ascending into the wretched sky, leaving me to as the question “why?” “Why must my father have to die?”

Through the cave I pass the light, preparing for my final fight and as my life lay in my hands, I reflect on father’s gallant stand to guide me as I become a man.

This man of such soulless taste, not a trace of joy to grace his face, will thrive and fight to win this race-a race of the mind between time and space, here and now I sigh in disgrace.

The man’s mind frazzled, his muscles torn, will continue to look upon with scorn the empty hole of despondent gloom that will engulf him in a cumbersome doom.

But as the man’s face, sullen with gloom, opens the door to the void of doom, his body ravaged by this sight, will abruptly end on this gregarious night.

For on this night, this night of all nights, the man shall die not from a fight but from the accursed gloom he had wrought through no fault but his own such freedom is sought.

The discouraged man, once worried and dazed, has now succumbed to an orphic haze as escape from a life that did him no harm.

Sapped of all his mortal charm his tears fade to mist on his shattered arm.

The man’s voice is soft and humble, far from the former gripe and grumble that had torn him to pieces and destroyed his fragile state of mind.

His ties to the reality he once knew, the hope, the love and feelings ensued were now nothing more that a faint blur on his soul once good and kind.

The mans face, scarred with cuts, faded into obscurity like a meek rust, engulfed by the malevolence of his soul and tainting the purpose of his father’s goal.

This man’s eyes, now cold with fear, leave his ears open to hear the sound of the one’s he loved so dear and the pain of losing the one most near.

His new goal was to die alone, far from the safety of his home and finally end his sorrowed soul, his heart now black as a lump of coal.

He fell to his knees and slashed his wrists hoping that it would assist and save him from the torture of this, and finally fulfilling his one twisted wish.

As blood flowed from his shattered arms, his pathetic, fleeting mortal charms only dwindled to the point where his body, now limp and frail, had been blown into the air by a mighty gale.

As the wind carried the man, his recollection of his father’s stand caused tears to form in his dismal eyes.

His only hope, his true salvation to decimate this degradation was nothing more than a faint glimmer on which the demented man despised.

His wrists cut; his mind warped, his eyes gouged with no retort, the man had wandered, then slowly pondered at this current point at which his sight he had squandered.

Sight gone but voice still well, he bellowed angrily in a mighty yell that seemed to echo like a ringing bell; trapping him in his own vindictive hell.

With both his sight and voice now gone, he was left to walk alone; the taunting road he tread grew long as the thump endless gong rang around inside his head, making him wish he was now dead.

He stopped on the side of the infinite road and fell to his knees, dying from the cold with which he had struggled eons before.

His eyes turned white and his skin went pale, leaving him too weak to wail in fear that his shriveled lungs would bleed.

The mournfully morose seed that would cause his lungs to bleed in such a vituperate way shall eventually die along with his screeching cry by the end of the man’s painful day.

Now, we see the man lie, his soul ascending into the wretched sky in which his father now resides.

His body is mangled, his soul strangled and his once tenuous hold on reality is now detangled and looming in the ashes of what was once his frazzled mind.

And now that his soul has reached the sky he could finally answer the question “why?” “It is not possible to cry when your true feelings drift and die.”

Now that his body is free to fly, the sun upon which his smile shines will emit a ray of gleaming light that will aid him in his final fight.

His peaceful dreams of an aural scene will form a mindset so pure and clean that his former life, once cold and mean, will fade to obscurity like a happenstance scheme.

The man's new life will be free from pain, giving him a reason to smile again.

As he looks up into the air, laughing and smiling without a care, clouds form as a sign of rain.

The rain turns to blood, causing tears to slowly flood into the eyes of a man with a futile dream.

by Loboshinbo
posted on 03/05/2007