Pilgrimage

Life is but a dream of conscious thought,
Born from an internal flame, igniting our spirit.

The pitter-patter of restless souls,
Marching to the beat of a faceless drummer.

Tears spilling from sightless eyes,
Casting rainbows across the veil of our existence.

A future steeped in long, grey shadows,
Our essence shimmering from within, illuminating our faded footprints.

We all journey alone,
Chased by ships of fools.

Inhaling toxic negativity, choking on the fumes,
Breasts heaving with disappointment.

Stumbling over broken promises,
Arms outstretched, we fall into the abyss.

Crawling on hands and knees,
Over sticky tendrils of deception.

We rise to a new dawn, exhausted but triumphant,
To the staccato beat of our pounding hearts.

Ready to carry forth with our journey,
Stronger, steadier, wiser.