The Way Is Dark

The way is dark outside, with these few lights
Inside this cabin being all there is;
It doesn’t matter what has come before,
There’s only ‘now’ and ‘forward’ from here on —

The way is dark, and he has no idea,
Why everything that was has come to this —
The chaos echoing inside his mind;
A din, a clash, he cannot get clear on —

If he could see the stars, perhaps, they’d shine
And show him how to find his way to joy —
Alas, the way is dark, and those strange lights
Have not been seen since he was but a boy

The train, it lurches on, and gives a groan;
The way is dark, and he
Is all alone

Published by

Beleaguered Servant

Owen Servant is an online poet working in a style that's been described as "compulsive". In real life, he is an actuary, because being a poet wasn't unpopular enough.

6 thoughts on “The Way Is Dark”

  1. Were you inspired by the photo or did the poem come first? Very well written. Could feel your state of despair.

      1. As is the way with me often times when I see an unusual photograph. Great job of putting forth honest feelings.

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