So, there I was

Waiting in the netherspace

for the mist to lift,

for the light to come.

But the whiteness darkened

into a storm that began

with a few raindrops

dampening my upturned face.

"No!" I cried and turned away,

raging against the storm

that threatened to wash away

all my hopes and dreams. 

But at that moment I realized

that my dreams had already died

and the netherspace I waited in

was the mortuary for a part of me.

"Alas!  Alas!  What loss!" I cried

for the part of me that died.

So, in this wake I yearn to wake,

but here I stand amidst this storm. 

"This storm! This storm!  I hate!"  I roared.

Nowhere to flee.  Bereft.  Forlorn.

Hope has flown.  The wind has blown.

"Ah, but now's the time to be reborn!"

Who said that?  Why?  Where?

I looked around. I turned around.

Nothing.  No one.  Probably just the wind.

I laughed bitterly, "How can I be reborn?"

Half-heartedly I reached for the dreams' remains

and watched the ashes run through my fingers,

scattering into the gusts,

clumping to the ground with the rain.

I looked at the ground

and noticed that a path

stretched before my feet.

Is this a path out of the storm?

Following the path,

I moved with the hope of progression.

Perhaps I can move on?

Perhaps I can move through the storm?

The path led to a junction.

An intersection of many

paths lay ahead of me.

Which one shall I take?

Within my being

a light brightened

as I pondered the paths of possibilities.

Adventure yawned into a beckon. 

I awake...

...and s t r e t c h.

I walk on,

feeling less alone. 

Poem by Yonder Creature (c) 2008

Credits:

The 3 photos of the cloaked person is by Clint Hay.

The black and white photo is by Paul Tien.  The grainy quality is due to my lazy re-sizing of his photo. 

Thank you for letting me use your photos here! 

The rest of the photos are mine.