It is the absence of light,
Crashing upon as an abysmal plight.
Piercing my senses is a silent scream,
Beckoning to me is a swoon less dream.
Stretching as a skyscraper is blackness’ pit,
Effortlessly knocking out my entire wit.
There are hushed voices above
eerily echoing in this alcove.
Waiting for me is a world with no track,
Swarming all around is the colour Black.
It seems, a perennial cascade of gluey sap
is trying to root me in this trap.
Perplexed I am trying, to get a grip,
praying for a swift end to this trip.
Somehow stumbling, I grazed against a stone;
my fingers then traced a cross lone.
The idea of a grave upon me then struck,
Inviting countless curses was my luck.
Despair started building a well around me,
Not a ray of hope for my iris to see.
Lingering over me was an invisible cloud,
Chuckling devilishly was Death’s own shroud.
Hopelessly, I willingly surrendered,
Leaving behind the world, on, my soul fluttered.
After ceaseless hours, the air around it lightened,
And finally, my unearthly afterlife brightened.