Tuesday, April 15, 2008

The Pit

Blinking eyes that strain to see
The beauty that surrounds me,
Pulled from darkness into light,
Crawling from the pit in fright,
My hand it slips.
I've lost my grip.
Slip back toward the dark below.
Fear again begins to grow.
Reach for hope and hand of friend,
Lest i meet a bitter end.
Catch myself, again reach upward.
Someone help me to move forward.
The rocks are slick.
In filth, feet stick.
Pray my grip holds.
Chide myself "be bold".
Slipping more, to my chagrin.
Don't let me fall down there again.

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