The Voice of Hope

The Voice of Hope

Dark canopies strangle the golden spears of light.
The sun struggles in vain to penetrate this shadowy barrier of branches,
For the convoluted labyrinth of bark would give no yield,
And twilight marches from beyond the horizon,
To conquer the brilliant glow of day.
And so the gleaming beacon falls,
Slain by the gathering hordes of dusk.
Now hopeless, I am caged by the forest.
Naught but shades would fill mine eyes,
And all around the woods press in,
Creeping slowly to squelch my soul,
To squeeze from me the life that seeps through my veins,
A savory wine for the night to quaff.
My feet are pulled by the miry earth,
Drawing me ever towards the murky depths.
All the might I claimed to have,
Could bring me no victory here.

Hope has truly fled.
…
But on the brink of whole surrender a whisper finds my ear,
A guiding voice that calls my name.
In the heavy silence of despair it nearly aches to hear.
I find my heart is doubting.
This prison of desperation is almost inviting,
But another call restores my mind,
And scatters my misgiving.
With newfound strength I shake away,
The tangling roots let loose.
My feet now swift, I give pursuit.
My mind heeds no distraction.
It guides me ever through the wood,
And now my path has brought,
The place for which my weary heart,
And shattered form have sought.

I step into the mossy glade,
Where moonlight now breaks through.
My eyes behold the starry sky,
Where once the branches grew.
A sparking pond reflects their glow
And on its edge is she,
The girl whose voice had brought me here,
From risk I failed to see.
If not for her, I have no doubt
The trees would have my blood.
I would have lost my hopeless war,
My body drowned by mud.
Her soft warm smile returns my peace,
And beckons me to sit.
She takes my hand inside of hers,
And frees me from the pit.