One Last Hope
He is searching for the light. From the
time he was conceived. In the darkness,
of his mother's womb.
Though he played in the sun
He still looked for the light.
In his younger days, he laughed
during the day and laughed at night
but cried for the light
For he knew the light he saw
was only the light of darkness
So he continued to look for the light
In sickness and health,
In the last drag of his cigerette stubs,
In the dark corners of shadowy pubs,
He couldn't find light
in shots and snuffs of drugs
nor in any woman's hugs.
In temples and churches and synagogues,
in his solitary walks and internal monologues,
In his middle age and old age,
he could never find the light.
Now he is struggling to live, with one last hope
that the death will show him true light.