Days pass and nights too- many times you are aloof.
All that is left is the tiny voice which lives in your head –
reminding you of the promises you made to yourself.
Quitting may seem like the only possible doorway.
You find that there are no shoulders to lean on.
When there are,
they are lean and so they crumble.
The strong and fleshy ones don’t last;
they are ripped from under your head in spite.
People’s promises become songs of mockery,
and your trials soon become a worthy joke.
At this point, you are reminded that you have nothing!
Not a farthing is offered that wouldn’t rip your dignity.
So you stay the poor man, and all you have is hope.
Suddenly you realise you have had all you need,
to try and try to carry through the days,
To cry and cry and yet survive the night’s dark reflection.
At least until the promised light comes,
and the tumbling tunnel’s end opens.
Verily and merrily one day it comes and opens,
like a narrow path filled with more gory thorns.
But your past has taught you to loathe fear.
So with nothing to lose, you grab your hope,
and embark on the journey through this new tunnel.
To fulfil all the promises you made to you.
As the tiny applauding voice lauds and yet fades.