The Road Home

When we find ourselves in darkness we find many roads to walk. Some of us are following the same one, hoping to find what we have lost.

His heart was racing, the beats tore at his lungs. The pavement was endless, no matter the direction. His legs burned, his arms were numb. Blood was no longer enough to fuel him. His nerves fired, his brain was frying. Cells were dying and emotions were born. Pity, loathing, conquering, resolves, anger, sympathy, and relief. The world was on fire, the heat was crashing over him. Now he stopped, the sound of the drums was fading. The rhythm of his heart filled the silent void. A ring that belled, then the rain. It fell all at once, crushing his boy. Breaking him down, freeing his soul. He could feel the world slipping away. Weightless he was whole, empty he was pure, together he was accepted. The road ahead still stretched, endless to the bounds of space, but the road behind was short. Filled with regret and remorse. The road back home was the longest one he had, and the only one he ever walked.