No Light at the End of the Tunnel

Finally I was there.
But there was no door to the tunnel
that I had come to from a far.
Many mountains I had to swallow
my throat was parched with no words.
Many rivers I had to walk through
I emptied my blood, there was not enough water.
I looked at my feet I had not worn
my hands I had not clutched
and to see the tunnel at last
that would lead me to the light
at the end
was a sigh I was afraid to expel.

I saw him at the entrance
this strange man who was my twin.
Was it a hallucination ? How could this be ?
We looked the same, barely clothed
carrying imprints of the earth
clawed by the wind.
I looked at him and then at me.
Words. I thought I would never see
uttered through lips, sought me.
“I am your path” he said.
“Through me you had come this far”.
“I had been your lantern”.

His voice did not echo between the walls of the forest
like I thought they would do
but rather was a soft knitted shawl
only meant for me.
“ I am here to free the flame”.
It was then I saw the end of the tunnel.
A blackness like liquid shoe polish.
Spilling on to my hands. Smearing me.

“But there is no light at the end of the tunnel”.
My own voice sounded strange, crawling out
of a machine corroded and unoiled.
Fear I had buried at last sprang up like weeds.
They covered my feet, ran up my legs and then my spine.
They were made from ice.

He spoke again. Or was it me to me ?
“There is no tunnel. Where is it ?
There is no darkness. Where is it ?
There is nothing to seek. Who is the seeker ? “

The glass broke. Darkness vanished.
At last I saw the light.
Yes.
There is no light at the end of the tunnel.
How can it be ?
We are the other end.
The light.

©Malintha Perera 2015

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