The Road

I walked along a road
paved with the flesh of
slaughtered dreams,
wet with the tears of
hopelessness.
My soul hung on me like
wet towel, weighing me down,
my legs were paralyzed with lethargic
indifference, but stubbornly
walked on toward the
nothing
which was my future.
Behind me was an infinite
abyss.
Ahead of me was infinite
confusion,
fear,
and uncertainty.
The only thing to break the monotony
of this bleak walk from nowhere to nothing
was the occasional scavenger
coming to take its share
from my hide,
and I would feel guilt
for not giving it
more.
Countless times I played
games with myself,
telling myself I could make it,
feeling the grit of my self
deception
scrape my pride from
my being, occasionally
to replace it with
arrogance or lust.
Lust for something I'd never known.
And though I'd never known it,
I knew it could help me.
It was something in me,
or something I could get.
Something to hold.
Something to call my own.
I believed.
I believed.
Then the devil who paved this road,
he gave me the thing I lusted for.
He shackled it to my wrists,
and my ankles,
and the thing I thought would save me
became an abuser.
And I walked on down the road.

One day I came to a bridge,
a wooden,
rickety,
worn,
beaten bridge.
It branched off of the road I was traveling.
It had a sign which said,
"Cross"
I looked behind me,
and I looked ahead of me,
the road was familiar.
It was barren,
sullen,
dark,
and hard,
but it was familiar.
The bridge was thin,
and it was unstable
I had too much to carry,
too much weight.
So I walked on down the road.

I was plagued with wonder.
What if...
But soon I was convinced
I had done the right thing.
I had saved myself.
And I walked on in misery.

Time passed as slowly as
learning from mistakes
and soon my feet were raw
and I smelled of
failure.
My nostrils betrayed me
and joined the attack
and I wondered
What had I done?
Why did this happen to me?
I fell.
I wanted to lie on the ground
weeping,
dying,
but my body picked itself up
and carried on.
I soon came to a bridge.
the bridge branched off of the path
and it had a sign which read
"Cross".
It was the very same
bridge as before.
I glanced at my load,
I was so tired,
but I knew that bridge couldn't
hold me.

As I walked on down the road.
My mind was torn apart,
wondering what might have been.
Perhaps,
should I see the bridge again,
I would try it out;
falling couldn't be worse
than the road.

I aged as I wandered,
the trials added to my
bondings.
My face became hard,
and set.
My eyes became dark
and sunken.
My heart pumped
blood of bitterness.
It was a long time before
I saw the bridge again.
I almost walked on past it.
The damage was done.
I no longer held the childish notion
that there was something better than
the road.
I stopped.
I took a moment to set down my burdens,
but they were chained to
all parts of my person,
and I couldn't get rest.
The sign on the bridge said
"Cross"
I was no longer sure that I could
even stand up.
There was nothing in me,
and the nothing seared
to the murky depths
of my losses
and wasted hopes.

With no reason to get up
I settled for defeat,
but then I heard the bridge creak.
I looked across the bridge
and there was a figure like me,
but he had no weight
and as much as I became
my surroundings,
this figure
defied
them and I had to
shield my eyes.
"Do you need a hand?"
He asked.
"Why?"
I said.
"Would you like some help?"
He asked.
"There is no such thing."
I said.
"Let me help you."
He said.

The weight, which I could
no longer
hold,
he lifted with one hand.
I expected the bridge would sway
as the two of us stepped on it,
but it was
solid,
and it didn't move.
Every step I took
became easier,
and easier,
and easier.
"Where are we going?"
I asked.
"There's a better way."
He said.
The bridge was longer
than it appeared.
As I crossed, my despair
peeled off of me,
and was replaced with hope.
The hope spread through me
like the expansion of wings.
I noticed all at once,
my burdens had disappeared,
my weariness transformed to
strength, and my age became my
youth.
"I feel so free!" I exclaimed.
"What happened to my troubles?"
He pointed behind us and I looked.
I saw my sorrows nailed to the bridge.
On the horizon I saw something strange.
It was like nothing I had seen before.
I had not even a word to call it.
"What is that?"
I asked.
The figure smiled,
"Light."
The light came in
many appearances.
Everything seemed to have
its own light.
"This is...
this is..."
I stammered,
having no conception of
what to name it.
The figure smiled again,
"Wonderful?"
"Yes!"
I exclaimed.
We soon came to the
end of the bridge
and I saw many bridges
and many other figures
just like me.
All of their eyes widened,
and we felt affection
for one another,
and as though carried by
something not of ourselves
we expressed that affection
through words,
and actions.
"What are all these?"
I asked.
"These are saved."
He said.
"Saved?"
I repeated.
"Are there more?"
The figure chuckled,
"Yes."
"Are you saved?"
The figure shook his head.
"Saviour."
He then told me about
the road.
I was never meant for
the road.
There were still others on
the road.
"I never saw any others
in all my time there."
I said.
"Everyone has their own
road."
He said.

He then took me to a bridge
and he told me to cross.
I did not know why he was
sending me back,
but somehow I
knew it was best.
He told me I was safe and
I believed.
I believed.
I crossed the bridge,
and I came upon a figure,
one like I had been,
it seemed so long ago.
He lay on the road,
being crushed by
his fear,
his hate,
his anger,
his lust,
his pride,
his failures,
and I felt a pain inside me
for him.
It was then that I realized,
the one called saviour,
he was inside me.
I looked at the soul on the ground,
and I said,
"Do you need a hand?"