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There’s light at the end of this tunnel, but there’s more than darkness behind, gravity takes water through funnels, and can neither reverse nor rewind. Vortices, whirlwinds, galaxies — where sometimes the stars align — have us commit the fallacy that’s intellectually asinine. We who place faith in reason, coveting the scientific mind, will forget and often ease in: a state that’s sadly: blind.

There’s light at the end of this tunnel, certain as death from birth, we’re hiking atop a gunwhale, sailing the celestial surf. The importance of this voyage conceives its own self-worth, whether feathering close to the edge, or running through the firth. Like the old man and the sea, or worms upchurned from dirt, we’ll have to face defeat, whether asleep or alert.

There’s light at the end of this tunnel: visible to every empath, and shortly, of them, some will: backtrack a solemn path. Some have already transcended: a martyr on the sabbath. He willfully decended, facing brutal wrath. Whether we part seas, or bare an ivory staff, listen to your heart beats: spread joy, kindness, and laugh.

There’s light at the end of this tunnel.

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