By Cal Evans

People swirl around me,
Zombies going about their day,
Already dead,
Waiting to lie down for the final time.

The world is monochrome,
Broken only by shades of gray,
mottled oils,
smudged onto the canvas I see.

On the horizon shines a beacon or promise,
Colors strike my eyes for the first time,
I am blinded,
By the fact that I can now see.

Hope burns brightly,
Fueled by the years of my life,
seconds burn,
I am a candle in the darkness.

I run for the beacon,
I see it’s glow but can’t catch it,
Out of reach,
Onward I press longing to bask in it’s light.

I stop and turn,
Behind me stretch a row of candles,
all turning,
to see that they are someone’s beacon.

I fade back into the swirl,
I am waiting to lie down.
Already dead,
Hope is just another candle.

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