That Light

He tried to live the positive
in everything he did.
Choosing not to see the down side
of the world in which he lived.
His soul cried out - a scream, a shout -
and suddenly he knew the harm he did.

For all that lived within him -
there on the other side of good
(and right and strong and so alone) -
wept in silent misery to others;
through his many silent moments,
when all he dared to think was that
he must belong with them somehow.
And yet the borders stood there,
always in his way.

Those borders that he'd once created,
way back in his youth. Oriented on
no more than mere survival.
Yet still he sought that great perfection,
in volumes of dull history that seemed,
upon the reading, to absolve him of his guilt.
For he would be a cornerstone
as all the world was built around him,
shining in the center.

And yet the hordes, the mass, the real,
would never join him there. For they
were forced to live the pain of all that he
still claimed he never felt. And when his
dreams took on that nightmare scheme,
of all he never dared to face in life,
he called out in pure fright throughout
the night.

And still, there was no answer there.
Not any one who seemed to care
for him at all. The fall then came
to be the only thing that he could feel.
And everything began to seem surreal.

It was reported on the nightly news -
a little blurb - attempted suicide.
No longer did it matter to him, how
they cried for him. Or so he thought back then.
For all that had been dim, became the wonder
of a mesmerizing light. Soaring then,
he flew above the hordes.

And passed through every border that
was once the worst abuse. Pain dispersed,
the understanding came. He found another
choice that still remained for him to make.
Clear and cool, an awesome view, was
reaching into him. Spirit hovering above
his battered body.

While just a touch of that great light,
supported yet his life. The doctors were
amazed - for just as they announced his
death, his flesh began to move. Awakening,
he knew what he must do. For clarity had
reached into the depth of all he was.

That light, it moves among us, even now.
Through hazy days of fear suspending
all we used to think our lives should be.
Yet we are free to find the truth
our spirits bring. Nothing less will
ever dull the pain of what remains...

? Michaelette ?

9/22/2002
Copyright© 2002 MLR Enterprises
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .