Problems of a poet

Ever feel like you've just entered a cave? It starts with you clearly being able to see the light at the end. You climb over bolders and squeeze though cracks and creases in the stone. Before you know it you've been crawling labouriously through the cave for months and that light which you had seen so clearly to begin with starts to flicker and fade. You start to wonder whether that light ever really existed, if it had been simply light reflect from the entrance, or possibly even just a figment of your over active imagination. You stop and wonder, maybe you should stop and turn back. You know fully that to turn back now would be a great dissapointment and still much more hurt and heartache to follow your steps backwards, but not nearly as much if you follow the cave further and only find a dead end. But to turn back now would also mean you'll never actually know if that light you saw so clearly at first was truly there. Even if the light is completely gone there will still be the nagging thought of what lies beyond the next bend. There lies the dilemna. But yet there is still a third possibility, that there is no end and the only light exists in the mind, that the cave just continues. In which case to continue would mean that regardless the journey would be fruitless.

Then again, this whole line of thought assumes that the end is the ultimate goal. But what if it's not the goal. Really, if you look at life to assume that the end is where you want to get to then death should be a much more welcomed event. Is it for the audience I sing for, or for myself? Is to dance in the dark of night actually to not dance at all?