We make our own way
Towards the light or into total darkness
One a welcome dream, the other a sharp reminder of reality.
Torn between the two, we teeter.
On the edge of this cliff
Looking down onto despair
With the warmth of hope behind us.
Somedays we allow ourselves to relax into the comforting touch of surety
And others, we flail hopelessly in the abyss of uncertainty.
Dark. Blackness. No way out.
Until there comes a thread of light.
A sliver of hope. Uncurling itself from the furthest point. Slowly but surely making its way towards us.
And so we cling on.
With all that is left inside us. We cling on.
Hoping against hope that this is the one.
The one that will lead back to that comfort and warmth that is now only a distant memory.
The one that will save us from falling any further into nothingness.
Hoping that this is real.
And not, as all the others had been, a mirage of our own wishfull thinking.