I Held The Light

I held the light, in a kerosene lantern—

It slipped through my hand—flames crept upon me,

The walls unfurled before I thought to walk away.

But in a fabulous unravelment of fortuitous events,

I remained unscarred, to step out of the fray

I was bound within, and found myself starting off to sea.

From the island I was on—the sun lit my skin

And seared the sole palm shading me.

So I sought to construct a raft, to sail at last,

But the winds blew me astray, and I washed ashore

To a foreign land, where the desert was vast

And I prayed for a boreal forest, or at least a tree.

But somewhere along my endless plight,

I fell right through the grains of sand,

Down… Down… Down… Futility grasping

The nothingness all around me.

With a thud, I was grounded—gasping—

For I was back in the box I first began.

And in that room, sat a kerosene lamp—

A precarious surface which I held tight.

I keep it locked within an amorous embrace,

Fearful of the folly I would be met with

Should the flame—the single wisp—displace

In the darkness—on that day—I held the light,