It is the Next Step, but the Same Journey

We move through the dim light passages
of a new Night. Though the same Storm follows
us on its anxious winds, woeful gasps
of innocent fright. He never understands that
he has nothing to fear of us lonely Hunters. We
are searching just as much as he for that glittering
Darkness, for peaceful smiles of hope. It doesn't
hurt to caress assurances into the skin, to push
past the salted bitter taste of the flesh into
the wounded hearts of the Children. We all
seek our doom, but ever refuse to embrace
it. Men are coy like that. And we grin ourselves
forward, encourage with touches and, more
than anything, full eyed glances. The Light
waits just behind the Thunder, trying to recall
us Home. We only know that we must refuse,
because our future is ahead, in the Night—
our past is done, our Youth is over. The end
of sparkled delight, clear sighted invention, imagination,
has arrived. We step into work hard at what we've
developed, grow it, keep it moving. It is time
for function. It's all in the fundamentals—not
change anymore. More answers than we've questions
for, more blind sorrow's babbles. There's another
entrance waiting for our exit, another cloud
to float us in and off our heartful fancies.
And a standing grown into sitting. We wait for
the Storm to whisper that he Understands.