I wrote this poem over some lunch breaks at my first internship. This was after my last suicide attempt, being homeless, nearly killing two kids, and the cusp of my freedom from a chaotic home life.

The wanderer looked forward on his path, unsure of what loomed ahead
The hours were timeless, with no events to fill its stead

As the traveler let loose a weary sigh
so too did the willows cry
an eruption let loose from the very sky!

Amidst the din a figure rose in front
There stood a steed, pale and gaunt
On this steed was no mortal rider
But only impermanence’s second child

Death cast his shadow of utter decay
And winds howled as mountains crumbled
All that lay ahead was washed away
Darkened by the unearthly rumble
The sun lay silent
The heavens cast asunder
Oozing oceans of twilight
Left only wanderer in wonder

And the twilight canvas edged ever forward
Creeping, crawling, cutting life from the soil
Until it stopped around the traveler’s mortal coil

Looking down toward the blackened earth
The wanderer loosed a cry of mirth
As the shadows were met with only hope
Slowly but surely, surly vines from behind groped
The ground at traveler’s back glowed a radiant blue
And the drifter turned to face the resplendent hue

Ephemeral eyes drank beauty unparched
As sparrows took flight in the light like a twisting scarf
Bluejays sang as fawns sprang
Foxes and hounds howled with joy unbound
Pines and poplars rustled in the breeze
All of life singing it’s own melody

Where once there wound a path with withered oaks
Life had sprung up where death once soaked
Caught in between, the wanderer stood
With head bowed at the end and the woods
The drifter laughed and strolled and thought
For now I am, and soon I will not.