Into the Night

We were all besides ourselves. A thick night had landed on our backs, all we had were our voices. I’ll always be thankful for that, they served as a cadence to hope.

There were familiar voices beneath that shadowy canopy, they echoed out giving us comfort while the strange ruckus of the night air tested our peace. There is a strangeness to that thick smoke that settles in the absence of light, the world loses familiarity when a sun wains. A world without colour, without shape, is a world removed from anything we knew.

My hope survived by my efforts to stay afloat, I made sure to keep my feet alive in the midst of a foreign night. My bearings were the first to lose there energies, but my heart refused to give in, it shouldered the burden and taught me the strength needed to fight for the finish. There were jeers and cheers buoyed by the fear and frenzy, among those were familiar voices fighting for clarity. 
I’m sorry I hadn’t called back when you begged for your rest brother. I’m sorry I wasn’t waiting when you tried to convince me it was only a matter of time. I’m sorry I held my tongue while you screamed into the deep lull, anger hadn’t won us a victory yet. I can’t undo the pace of my passions, love was leading me. 

The truth is we were never sure when we would finally breath without the clouds of uncertainty staining our breathe. Although the light had felt like a lifetime ago, it was never reason enough for me to resign to night.
Once we had broken out of the darkness we relished the light, searching around in our rediscovered clarity reviving a forgotten confidence. Filling our bellies with food and drink, we reconvened and took stock of our memories. It was funny to hear our accounts as we each offered them up in turn. Each of us boasted some degree of bravery that crowned us victors of that sudden eclipse. We all worked “hard” to survive, through our efforts some of us lived others worked only to stay alive. 

I noticed our faces, some were proud of their patience, burrowed in shallow graves that offered safety, they waited for the light to return. I noticed that some faces were colder even after the sun had touch them. The night had worked itself into their hearts, their faith was whittled thin, for them the light was always ready to leave.

I nursed my scars and made my promise to keep my limbs thick with the energy that led me forward. There were scrapes and falls, there were flashes of fear but only the fear had drowned in those sudden pools of doubt I was fortunate enough to stumble into.
I worried about the fray before, I never thought I was ready to face it. Only inside the turmoil had I surrendered to the potency and the true value of that moment. I could fret tirelessly, drawing up pictures of my problems and solutions, or I could let my heart beat that fire into my limbs and settle into the fray.

When you’re there, you’re there, stay present. Don’t drink from those notions of possibilities unrealised. Seize your moments, seize your power as the author of the fight to the finish. You’re story will be written under the canvass of your journeys nocturnal forest. You’re story will come alive under the spotlight of your victories sun. Sharpen your sword, and once more into the night.

Author: The Blissful Nomad

I'm a writer, Poet, Spoken Word Artist who fell in love with words at a weird time in my life. A chance to create is precious, getting to share what my mind pieces together is something special. I hope you enjoy reading, feel free to get in touch, any feedback is appreciated.

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