The Light

Do you see the light?

It's twinkling,
blinking,
winking at me alone.

It's asking me
to come closer,
closer,
closer.

Begging,
pursuing me.
It warms me
with fingers that feel too real.

The light shines into me,
and right through me.
It fills the darkness
and casts the memories away—
even the ones I wanted to keep.

It saves me,
warming every cell,
and fills me
with truth
that tastes like copper.

Do you see the light?

It's speaking to me
in voices I almost recognize.

Telling me things
I always knew
but wished I hadn't,
opening my eyes
to see,
what I ignored before.

To see, what I have been blind to:
the way shadows move wrong,
the way the dead still whisper.

It shines behind me,
illuminating my past
that keeps shifting
each time I look back.

It shines in front of me,
guiding me,
on my last steps.

Do you see the light?

It's carrying me,
light
and soft,
like a spider's web,
like a final breath.

Like a tender kiss
from lips I cannot see,
lifting me up,
high
into the sky
that tastes of endings.

It won't let me fall.
It fills me completely.
We are one.

It shows me the way,
off the cliffs,
where something waits
below.