Black and white photo of a lighthouse in a field

A Beacon of Hope

In shadows cast by fading light,

I fled from self, from past's embrace,

Running swift through endless night,

Seeking refuge in distant space.


With each step, a memory erased,

A piece of self left behind,

Chasing dreams, a frantic race,

Leaving echoes of what defined.


But in the silence, the void, the haze,

I look in mirrors, see a stranger's face,

Lost in the maze of my own maze,

Can I return, can I retrace?


Too far I've gone, too deep I've delved,

To find the self I left behind,

Will they remember the one who dwelled,

Or have I faded, a specter in mind?


Who am I now, in this foreign land,

A wanderer in my own domain,

Gone too far to understand,

The path I've taken, the price of pain.


Yet in the stillness, a whisper calls,

A beacon of hope, a guiding light,

To reclaim the self that once stood tall,

And embrace the darkness, embrace the fight.


For though I've strayed, and lost my way,

The journey back is not in vain,

To rediscover, to reclaim, to say,

I am here, I am whole, I am me again.

-Blaine Ford

Photo of a white lighthouse with a vibrant green field in front of it
Browns Point Lighthouse Tacoma, WA

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