by I lay, sit, stand, walk, and run in the darkness of my Bacchic Night.
Watching a golden light warm those around me,
Forever cold, I yearn for the warmth of that Golden Light.
Try as I might, can it really be called trying?
I can not seem to come to that bright Golden Light.
Wishing does nothing.
Hoping does nothing still.
I must push, shove, and fight.
All so I may reach that glorious Golden Light.
I am alone in my darkness.
I have been alone even amongst others.
I do not want to be alone anymore.
In the in-between, the crossroads between that Golden Light and my Bacchic Night,
With every step, my Night seems to grow.
Whether illusion or truth, I do not know;
Maybe I shall never know, until I finally feel the warmth of that wonderful Golden Light.
Step by step, I keep moving.
Step by step forward to that Golden Light,
Step by step to escape my Bacchic night.
Will I make it? I may not, and that is a fact,
But once I do I will be embraced,
In friendship and brotherhood only to be found within that Golden Light.
Sometimes I fall, sometimes I look and step back, and sometimes I lay down to rest.
But I refuse to turn around to head back deeper into the coldness of this Bacchic Night.
