Aware of the darkness, but little more;
Embracing the shadows, avoiding light,
And pushing my indigo mood before
Me, as a snowplow clears a path through white.
Tonight's white is billowing clouds of black,
Charcoal, and soot-colored frigid, frore fog -
Caressing my face and stroking my back,
The touch of a lover, sharing a jog
Through a soft-clinging pitch-black velvet sack.
I journey alone in my shadowed flight,
Through a world of dimly-sensed phantom life,
Which distant, veiled, leaves my precious sight
Impaled by sombrous obsidian knife.
I'm the soul survivor of endless night.
Mick McKellar
October 2018
We are indeed the sole survivors our darkest journeys through Stygian gloom and darkling worlds, hidden from all...hidden even from ourselves -- soul survivors.
Mick
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