The Light That Lies
Beneath a sky of soulless gray,
A man alone, lost in dismay.
An abandoned station, cold and still,
The fog wraps tight, against his will.
Shadows shift with hollow grace,
Glowing eyes, a spectral chase.
The radio hums its lonesome song,
But who is listening? Who belongs?
The door is locked, yet something stirs,
A voice within, a pull that blurs.
What calls him here? What seeks him out,
In this forsaken, silent doubt?
The beam of light, a fleeting hope,
Chased by darkness, learning to cope.
Why do we reach for what is near,
When all that’s near is cloaked in fear?
He finds the door, the bathroom cold,
A Christmas light in heatless hold.
A name etched deep, "Jason was here,"
But who was Jason? What draws him near?
Does the name hold meaning true,
Or is it merely placed askew?
What makes a man, a fleeting mark,
Leave his name, and vanish stark?
He lights the flame, a flicker bright,
To ward off things that steal the night.
But what is light, if all it does,
Is burn the dark where silence was?
An old woman comes with deadly hiss,
Her presence born from something missed.
Why do we fear what we can't see,
When all we know is what will be?
He runs, but runs to where?
What does he flee, if death is there?
Is it the chase, or the end we seek?
Is life a question, bleak and weak?
A door ahead, a fire’s breath,
What lies beyond—life or death?
A monster waits with eyes of flame,
Does it judge him, or is it the same?
Why do we run when all we know,
Is that time moves so slow?
Is this the answer, or just the chase,
The endless loop we cannot face?
And in that fire, a truth unknown,
Is it our fear that makes us grown?
The monster watches, yet does not care,
For in the end, what’s left is air.
What punishment does life bestow,
When all we seek is what we know?
A house of flame, a road that ends,
Are we the judge, or just the bends?
Perhaps we’ve always been the chase,
Caught in the dark, without a place.
In every shadow, a question lies—
Are we the hunter, or the prize?