TheFight

The Fight

Life can be a walking grave.
A black tunnel of no response.
On the wings of a storm came the near death of my existence.
Ominous , impending.. devastating.
I still rode the waters, still traveled the journey.
Till every day was the same struggle.
The direction never seemed to change.
My mind fought to tell me.
It is I who am the captain of the journey.
Yet I am drawn to the impending doom of suffering I forced on myself.
The swell of this ship is frightening and dangerous.
As I look behind me, the horror of my predicament will scream a thousand horrors in my mind.
Yet I sail on, I glance to the east of me, the other ships are prevailing.
They are tattered and worn, ships smaller than mine, more battered, more weary, yet they had not yet given up the fight.
Hope…. is the ray I must sail on.
Exhausted I go on .. till dawn of sunset prevails and the storm has past.
I LIVE.
To obtain that desire I had to almost die to see beyond the storm…
to see the reality of what morning could become.