There is no light

There is no light in the world.
We are, each of us, fumbling
our way through the dark
by means that differ from person to person,
that vary from day to day.

Today, I set my pen to paper
in hope of stumbling forward.
I haven’t yet found the way,
but I’m sure that it is there—
there is always a way forward.

I reach my hands out,
grasping blindly.
At times, I find clues
left by those gone ahead:
marks and scents and sounds,
immortal guides passing through time
to show me the way.

Sometimes, I reach out to find
another hand reaching back
to pull me swiftly and surely
through treacherous, winding passages,
then letting go
with a whispered assurance
that the way is straight from here.

I have come so far through the dark.
If I am lucky, I have yet far to go.
I try, too, to lay a path
for those that follow,
my weathered voice saying
“Turn here, wait now, leap down.
The fall is not as far as you fear,
and falling is the only way forward.”

I am not strong enough yet
in arm or heart or soul
to reach back and pull forward those behind me.
As yet, I would only be pulled back myself.
So I content myself, now,
with the words I leave,
my own immortal guides:

“Close your eyes.
Clear your mind.
Trust in those who came before.
Listen to those who found the way.”

There is no light in our world.
We must all, together,
find our way through the dark.