The Darkness

Pitch black forest attempts to sneak

a firm, tight hold of me with long,

ancient, greedy roots and branches.

I'm hiking along a lost, muddy track,

in a closed bubble of stolen light,

a light that trembles, twirls, and dances.

Outside this protected circle of brightness

the entire world could as well be dead,

there'd be absolutely nothing there.

Time and time again, I tell myself,

there's naught but a zone of emptiness,

and the monsters that I dream up here.

All sound is swallowed by the darkness,

only the stomping of my bulky boots,

the heaving of my heavy breath.

The soft music reining in my madness

and the rustle from the paws of my dogs,

mark the absence of demons and death.

I resist the urge to run and flee

but a tickle on my neck bothers me,

if all my dogs are standing here,

I'm counting one, two and also three,

then who's that with the fiery eyes

gleaming in the blackness over there?