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I walked along the empty road, in a foreign land, lush with hills,
A greyness filled the sky as the day stretched forth;
And the cold air of autumn encroached on my form
As I journeyed alone, knowing not the place where sleep would find me worn.

I passed through a town, so steeped in medieval beauty;
A grey lake curved away, to catch the tears of mountains
Which, behind a misty curtain, remained shrouded, beyond my sight
Enveloped by the dampness, so suspended, in the cooling air.

I passed the composer's house, a man who turned music into drama,
But it was closed and the instruments remained unseen;
A hunger inside me grew, for little nourishment had been taken that day,
But I continued onward and pushed sustenance from my mind.

The day grew late and twilight fell so quickly before me,
The wind sang to me in whispers, and in that rural place all was truly unknown;
And beyond the curving road, I saw a copse among the swelling fields
As the darkness around me increased and Day finally bowed to Night.

I had to find a place to sleep, a place remote and safe,
But I was seen and could not stay, and in the silence I continued on;
And in the light, still fading swiftly, my mind resolved to find a way
To place its trust in a higher guidance and hoped for the perfect place.

The spur of an enormous mountain loomed dark and ominous before me,
It filled the horizon, so completely, that I was entirely captivated;
A sudden glimpse of the moon, so brief between the clouds,
Shed no light on Pilatus, an imposing ancient mass.

I went around it, beside the lake, where chill winds danced around me
Like lonely spirits observing my journey, witnessing every step I took;
And for a time, the road became much darker,
But I found my way around and travelled safely toward another town.

But where would I lie? for that had been my dilemma;
I suddenly halted on the road and before me was a darkness,
So black it stopped me dead in my tracks;
Never was there an entrance so uninviting, so unsettling to my mind.

And there the street lamps ended, but the road continued on,
And vanished into darkness, at the mountain's forested step;
That sight so concerned me, I dared not approach it
And beneath the artificial light I found my sanctuary and slept on man-made stone.

 

 

Written by Mark Woollacott
30th October 2008.