The March for Light


See the masked skeletons of undead slaves march

varnished spirits welded together by the sins of their past

through the smog they trudge

their steps heavy, cracking, toying architecturally with bones brittle as glass

they seek to the end of days for the unstained, sacred light

beyond the fog and smoke that is only lit by the spectral illumination of moonshine

to make it beyond one of the darkest places on earth

to merely catch a glimpse of the halo the rests in the serenity of still

but having been stricken to death and sent to gravesend,

they are left with the ignorance of not having seen the darkness approaching.

forever bonded to the uttermost ends of the earth

never to have their souls flooded by the intoxicating august light.

May they always seek what they lost in life,

love, loyalty, lustrous living

forever beaconing to a higher being that seemingly has turned the cheek

thorned vines creep up their legs, pulling and tearing

dragging them back to the depths of the earth where once came

from the scratched flesh blood should have flown 

nothing but dark space is seen from these wounds

as they are reclaimed into the world they reach out in vain and anguish

anger boils and they become irate and curse the world they strode upon

but silently they pray once more to be given the chance

the chance to be what they should have been

but these beasts are man made 

artificially crafted with souls that have been polluted with a darkness

never to be released 

into the daylight which they one basked in 

long before the time of enthralling corruption

they will relive this nightmare every dusk until dawn

a surreal dark fantasy turned cruel reality

never to be awakened by the gentle touch of angelic light


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741