A Light Misleading

It's a terrible journey this fleeting feeling, of
Lusty longings for the end of absence, of
Ongoing wondering of loaction's torture, of
Vengeful resentment of the ignorance returned, of
Extended misery taken with necessary bliss.

As if trapped in a narrow passage
Of daunting length,
With darkened hue to match your
Still darker heart.

You proceed with hesitation,
tile by sharp tile,
Seeming all the while
You've only trotted in place,
Just like the attemt to
Rid yourself of this blissful grief.

With mechanic movements of
Your lower limbs, they feel
Dismembered and unfeeling.
Knee lags behind leading foot,
As does hip behind knee.
And especially obvious is mind vs body,
The lock of bones broken,
Thoughts as the key.

And, sure, there is a light at the end.
Follow it, for there is nothing else to do.
Its reflection protrudes down the hallway,
Close to you and your desperation,
Yet it only teases your sad exasperation.

For every inch closer,
It retreats the same.
You may never grasp it
For it is meek and lame.

And, sure, you reach the
End, the shaky source of light,
But what you expected was not right,
It's depression you find, not delight,
For it is dully grey, rather than bright,
It is grief that can hardly excite.

And so you've finished this terrible journey, of

Lusty longings for the end of absence, of
Ongoing wondering of location's torture, of
Vengeful resentment of the ignorance returned, of
Extended misery taken with necessary bliss.