Meandering...

Meandering
Along a dark tunnel,
Night entombs me with her heavy cloak,
Filled with scorn for the man I've become,
hate for flaws, fear of being fogotten.
Unforgiving stench that rifles my nose,
stifles the mind.

Meandering,
I see a light ahead in the darkness,
I hear a host crying "You are Love",
He is the worthy one, standing in the gleam.
He takes each by the hand and removes their cloak.
But like Sisiphys, I've already condemned myself to a personal hell.
Falling down the hill of love to a valley of self-loathing.
I roll up again, but slip;
He reaches for my hand, but in my hate I withdraw and fall.

Meandering,
The light seems distant,
But the gleam is there.
I fill up my cup with mud,
but it cakes and cracks, not firm.
Water seeps down and affirms me.
I may be meandering, but I'm not lost.