They told us we have to walk, to seek a way out of this undying darkness.
But are we all too blind to find our way?
Are we all too scared to put a foot across this sea of darkness, of uncertainity?
But there will be no more screams, no more pain, they say.
So we all walked.
Although some never started, because they did not believed in the story.
Some stopped, because they were all drained of energy.
And some bled, lying alone on this meadows, with no one to answer their call.
But those stories told, how wonderful it seems. I dreamt of it daily.
To get across, I held on to a rope tied to a galloping horse.
I couldn't get on. The horse kicked me off when I once attempted to.
Afraid, I could only hold on tight, staining the rope more and more red each day.
But deep inside I know, we will never get across. We will never survive.
Perhaps there was never light shining on the other side.
Yet I stared at it longingly every minute, every second.
I hoped and dreamt of this tiny flicker of flame, that has every potential to start a sea of crimson. To have light shone upon me eternally.
For this I bleed willingly.
Till the day this rope breaks.