The Light

I walk alone in the field
Protected by a veil of mist
And fog. Alone, I'm amidst
The zombies, people with their shields.

They blindly stumble, trip, and fall;
Get up and walk, in endless quest,
Forever seeking food and rest.
They never question their role;

They never ponder why they live.
They don't because they are undead:
They neither wish that they were dead,
Nor do they want to be alive.

It starts to rain. They head inside
The mausoleum's marble hall.
Once built to honour proud soul,
It shelters those who would hide

From any obstacles they get.
From thinking, feeling by themselves,
They quickly build protective shells
To run away and to forget

The truth. With time, they lose the string
That lead them into labyrinth.
And then, they make an ugly myth
That they, forever, have to cling

Inside this hopeless, hateful place
With no will, no strength to face
Another day. And so, this race,
The generation lost, displaced,

Now wanders, aimlessly, through life.
I turn my head and fix my eyes.
I'm startled by her charming, nice
Insight and will to be alive.

She's lost, confused among them all.
I come to her and take her hand,
And walk her out of this land.
We stumble, lost, among the halls

Of mausoleum's furtive ways.
But exit, in the end, we find.
I stop and look into her kind
Expressive eyes. We walk away

Into the light, with no regrets
For leaving everyone behind.
For they may run, for they may hide
Away from pain. They may forget

Of beauty, life, and warmth of light;
They know naught of what is love.
It is too deep! It is above
What they can give. They turn their sight

Away from sun and down to earth.
(It blinds their eyes.) They fear the most
To be alone, to be the hosts
Of their selves. They thus unearth

The graves for their own minds
And they ignore what their insides
Are telling them. I stand beside
Her warmest soul, and we confide

Each other with our honest smiles,
And, hand in hand, we walk away
Discover goals and pave the way
For those stuck for many miles.

Depressed we may wish to be,
Alone at heart we always are,
And while all foreign seems bizarre,
You must look closely to see

That, all in all, we are alike,
The human race born under sun.
And once your only life's begun
You must respect each day and like

The gifts that world will give to you;
You must appreciate your lot,
For even if it's not a lot,
You can't reset or start anew.