Creative

Going Solo

It was dark.

A winter moon, sparkling white,

right behind the starry night.

 

A promise, a message, a dream

Of a wondrous village, with great furore.

A beacon of knowledge, power, light.

 

And Truth.

 

A voyage ‘cross uncharted stars is all it seems,

But the starry night,

quite calm and serene,

Won’t budge lest we fight,

It schemes.

 

We pack our bags, going solo.

Little do we know, along comes our ego.

Pitter, patter, off we go,

Our destination, a miles’ throw.

 

In sprawling darkness, off we rowed,

Over thunderous waves and murky swamps.

 

Days past on this rusty track,

Yet the glittering moon still shone,

 

Merely shifted aback.

Alone came another wintery night,

Another day of dismay,

A New Hope for light.

 

But all this was not “A long, long time ago.”

“In a galaxy far, far away.”

No!

That’s not how the story ended.

It continues.

 

I talked to my ego, contemplating our life,

Questioning our existence, pushing against our strife.

Both of us know that our little adventure was never one of leisure or ease,

And after all this way,

At the least our hearts stood appeased.

Our goal was never to reach the peak,

Only experience the joy of the climb,

To break no bones,

Or to lose our mind.

 

And so here we sit together, me and my partner.

With our old sea oars, rowing and smiling,

With our eyes still searching for a spark bright,

All as we journey across this mighty, starry night.