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I wrote this a long time ago, when I was in high school:

-Anodos-

The light now fades, a sad night falls,
Expanding shades grow thin and tall.
A young man knows what must be done
As all light leaves and dark has won.

He starts to walk through hill and dale
Over choked up creeks and dead foxtail.
The old oak leaves crunch with fallen stem
As his scarred black boot walks over them.

All pitch now, but in light of day,
Those crunched up leaves were gold in fey.
These colours by noon in crimson hue
Show by dark a deep black-blue

A dry wind Southerly carries this sound,
In the hour birds hide or batter down.
All things run, or fear the wrath,
The waste of man; his prideful laugh.
But this one differs, his silence stays,
To hurt not land nor trees nor bays.

A young red squirrel takes a chance,
And sees one little man, lost in trance.
He walks without reason, rhyme or way
Toward the far cliff on the side of the bay.

His hair is dark and as are his eyes,
Hard in the dark as expansive night skies.
As if thinking of such, the man looks high,
Past trees, past clouds, to the Gourd in the sky.
It points North, in the heavenly dome,
As it did helping slaves to find freedom.

A cloud passed grim and covered the night
Darkness upon darkness, death of all sight
The man’s footsteps cease, the silence grows
As all things halt and time now slows.
And, as a shift, the moon returns
The birds murmur, the clouds have turned


The man starts again, now quicker in pace
As he hurries through that forsaken place
His actions of past, now set free
Will face the light of scrutiny.

He reaches a fork in the road up ahead
One offers escape, the other deep dread.
What did the Poet say upon this?
That the road less traveled did lead unto bliss?

His path goes on through darkened wood.
Hidden eyes watch to see what would
Transpire on this, this empire Dark,
That destroys the soul and damns the heart.

The trees now thin and the wind does blow
The sound of waves comes crashing slow
The cliff is near and he has found
He cares not more for light and sound
To end this pain is all he asks
But, as he rounds the bend, he gasps--

A deep blue ocean, dark and free
That goes forever, endlessly
With mountains of waves and crashing foam
And sunken ships with ghosts that groan
And bleached white birds flying o’ the sea
And the field of Heaven, eternally.

The man, now recovered, sits on a log
And fixes his mind on this impossible job.
The wood, white as bone, has shown him the truth
He is natural, organic, and will rot like a tooth.
And what’s natural does die and decay, as it must
For as Ash goes to Ashes, Dust goes to Dust.