The Labyrinth: A Poem

In the darkness, the quiet Light shines steady

The musty smells, the damp walls, the moss chill the tepid air, such that it is

Heavy, close and stifling, where is the life?

Far off, beyond the endless labyrinth of stone, cries of battle rage

Torn from the peace of the cradle, the infant cries as hunger calls

Greeted not with comfort, his fill is granted by a begrudging mother

The first stone is set

Now I wake, so cold, cramped and desolate

At whose feet must I lay blame for my imprisonment?

Where is the villain who walled in this maze of hell?

Do I not know! He is out there! We are fighting Him on every front!

In the midst of childhood glee, the boy finds strength

The shadow of those who call him forward, some steps ahead and clearly wiser

Feels cool, safe and exhilarating. But suddenly the moment, the betrayal,

The humiliation of the joke played by those deemed worthy of admiration.

In the chaos, the call rings out: MORE WALLS

YES! It is THEM. All those who met the cry for love with scoffing

All those who used his weakness for sport,

All those who took advantage of the helpless,

All those who claim to know good and thereby do evil,

They have chained the light.

Now the battles rage as echos, deep in the cavern of damp darkness

The light feebly struggles on, flickering this way and that, a shadow only just

What once shown as the Sun is barely a flicker

You see, it takes light to build walls

At least the fight is far away, but is it so distant?