Beneath The Black, The Sky Is Pale

-Beneath The Black, The Sky Is Pale-
by
Keaton Foster

“Twisted are these dreams, real are these schemes.”

Beneath the black, the sky is pale, expanding, meandering, and as always I keep following. Never really knowing a destination and unsure of where it is that I’ve been. I’m always lost, here, in this place, in this wicked wilderness.

This place, it is a righteous kingdom of wolves, and they are always hungry for blood. Such wolves are always chasing me, just like the past that I cannot escape. They are snapping at my heels, and I cannot take a second to stop. I know that I must keep moving on, and so never am I standing in any place for too long. I cannot manage a moment of rest or peace.

For me, time alone often decides if and when every lie becomes truth. Remembering back has become quite hard, damn near impossible. Lost faces appear to me as silent ghosts. Loved ones once misplaced have since further escaped. I am always by myself in this ever-increasing, ever-deepening hole. Sickening me to the bone, I am fighting to find equal footing as I further fall down.

Deeper and deeper I sink with each step. As I move along, I whisper, beneath the black, the sky is pale. I say it under tone, whispering low, in a range inaudible to most. At a level so low that only those with a clue to such absolutes will hear what is being said.

God above won’t relent, upon my heart there is his grip. Suffering is what must be done as I fight to explain myself, and these words are my only way. Nonsensical gibberish or unprecedented brilliance, I’ll let the critics decide. In the end, I know that I will be judged by content and persecuted by meaning. I know that I will offend far more than I’ll ever save.

Beneath the black, the sky is pale, there is no sun, no moon defined. There is only nothing, hopeless, thick, and wide. I face no chance while I’m here. I was never truly meant to survive, but somehow I have. Through each page, I tell this story as I live it. I can do nothing else because it is all that I really have.

All that is truly and without question mine…


Beneath The Black, The Sky Is Pale
Based on a poem of the same name
by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2015