The last steps like the first steps,
Cautious and faltering,
Seeking for guidance and
Aiming for home.
The light that was carried and
Molded and shared
Is dimming and fading
With each turn of the stairs.
The breathing is laboured
The heartbeat unsure
But the gift is still carried
And presented, unpure.
The last light like the first light,
Blazing and beckoning,
Retrieving the flame and
The gift that was given.
Transparent hands hold it aloft,
Was I worthy? Did I shine? Did I do enough?
The flicker of life returns to its’ core,
Unseeing, unknowing, undead.
I wrote this piece in response to the above picture. It was this week’s prompts on What do you see?
Many thanks to Helene for her great inspiration and support, it is much appreciated.
And also a big Thank You to everyone who reads these poems, it means a lot to me.
Some Other Poems: