Wolfy Chai

You made out the dull sight of hope. 

A fire dimly lit the cavern where we spoke.

Flickering in the night, the flame burnt. 

Flickering in the night, your fate woke. 

The bricks on the walls dutifully held onto the light,

But the ridges remained rough and unfinished—casting sharp shadows. Talons that clawed their way through the crevasses, keeping them just out of sight. 

What secrets have you hidden here? 

Stains the lamplight could not capture along the way. Beneath the ground, behind the door, in the darkest hiding place. 

Your vision has gone fuzzy—blinded, you are unable to see what you must learn to face. 

Quickly. The floor became the ceiling; the walls contorted sideways; the passageways narrowed—forming dead ends each way.

The pace quickens.  

You tremble in the cold. An icy wind emanates from below. 

Guide me back gently, you pray. Guide my shifting gaze and fractured gait.

You try retreating from the dark you found in your soul. 

Running your frail fingers on the walls, searching for an escape.

Hoping that eventually you would find your way. 

Then—the fire went away.

You hyperventilate. 

Only the darkness remained and death became the only way. 

Torment and torture had to wait. 

Your time expired, your patience staled, your heart burning as if it had been impaled. 

But little did you know, by dawn you’d be laid gracefully in the place where the sun had always shone. 

Descending from the heavens, warmth, energy, spirit, vitality, invigoration, a golden elixir with a taste of honey would await. 

Your long white gown draping down several marble stairs. 

Glowing, your skin irradiates, holding onto one more moment before your corpse fades without trace. 

Instead of honey, blood wept from your lips. A penance paid for all your harms: scars from the lashes and blood from the whips. 

You learned that darkness was not the only way, only after you’d faded away.