The Path

 

I soar above seeking a path Fingers gripping meshing cords

The infinite made finite

Far below, another’s pain burns

I tug a rope, and offer salve

The fire soothed, higher I soar

When new hurt calls, I respond

Again, and again, not to rise

But that the path is clear, and the sky is bright

Fickle luck brooks no calm

Electric arcs cut a strange, dark sky

The fire is lance-sharp, the pain now mine

Far above, another soars free

Their white, bright sky is a cocoon

My grey presses, presses heavy

The other sees, eyes hard and true

And turns away towards pleasure

The storm passes, and I continue

Only the wind steers mindless ropes

The path is plain but it is mine

Mine and mine alone

The call of another hurt grows

But each refusal softens the next

My path and mine alone

My heart soon begins to grow cold

Colder than the mindless wind and mesh

Squeezes tight until there is only darkness

The path is plain but I cannot see.

I reach out for a different rope

Pulling at new possibility

The call of another is a sum

Hero or villain, friend or foe

I heed only those whom I owe

Like the one now slumped in grey

A common grey face that adds up

The fire soothed, higher I soar

Not quite to heaven, not quite so high

But the heart is still for now.

Nervous time brooks no calm

Unheard pain adds to unwanted sums

The heart is gnawed and weary

I tug the forgotten first

Into the murk I sink, the salvebringer

But my heart is full and I soar again.

Crests and troughs bring clarity

That a steady path never showed

Truth lies in jarring motion

To seek the path is the path.