Lonesome winds whisper through the dark valley surrounding the highway that is my soul. I carry a lantern burning from the precarious end of a wick that is shortened with every breath I steal from the hollow vast dampness that wafts through my memories like so many lost thoughts. Somehow I find the courage to continue, for continuing is the only way through the darkness.
Yet continuing, I know the wind will blow, even though the answers play merrily just beyond the damp darkness, capering around like so many fuzzy puppies. The tiny wick burns slowly, its tired breath illuminating the edges of the path, then following into the darkness beyond the current thoughts of motion. There is no rest, only the forward motion, fighting against the darkness.
Sometimes I fear my lantern holds a fuse, not a wick. But these thoughts I push away like so many wolf’s eyes glaring from the bushes, hungry and feeling their prize. Rain falls and bridges tremble from the waves somewhere in the darkness, and yet the lantern burns. Ever advancing I take another step, and keep walking.