I walk where the shadows lay.
Not just tomorrow but every day.
These pathways burned into my brain.
And yet I continue to fall off then time and time again.
With an unsteady hand outstretched for nothing.
Why do I continue to stumble while I’m looking?
I cannot say and so I push forward.
An unseen weight resting heavier on me.
Could be choices I wished I’d taken.
Or perhaps they are distant painful memories.
Whatever they are the affect is tangible.
Makes me question what I do.
For as I drift amongst the darkness I see no light shining through.
Why am I here?
Purpose is not clear.
Seldom frequenting crowded spaces.
Time is never on my side.
Within the pages of this age.
Call in contempt for all it’s brought.
Stare into pools of mysterious blue.
I am not amongst even the few.
For my existence is too dire.
Be better served as fuel for a funeral pyre.
Galvanizing hope by burning despair.
Alas I am not so easily felled.
Some might even be amused.
Yet I cling like leaves to a branch.
At a time when they are turning brown.
Dying for a new winter’s crown.
And like the detritus I linger longer than is wanted.
Stubborn against even the fiercest foe.
Forever I am hoping for better days ahead.
Simon A Jackson - Writer 