__The Path__

I am running; forever running.
There is no path.
There are no surroundings.
There is only blackness.
And I am running through it.

But then, a light flashes far ahead of me.
It is bright and warm and welcoming.
Its sweet song calls to me.
I am running towards this light.

But now the ground shakes beneath me.
My vision blurs, and for a moment I stumble.
There is now a path.
It is thin and rocky and weak.
On either side is empty blackness.
I am running along this path.

There is a loud bang that resonates through the air.
From either side of the path I'm running on, sound bursts forth
It is loud and deafening and distracting.
I cover my ears—
I am still running.

And now images appear.
They are dancing obnoxiously around me.
They want my attention.
They are distracting me.
They are leading me off of the path.
I close my eyes—
I stumble.
I fall.

I am hanging by my arm from the path.
Blackness swirls below, eagerly reaching out to me.

I am in pain.
The path is exhausting.
The sound is deafening.
The images are blinding.

The light is fading.

I reach up, but there is no one.
I call out, but my voice is unheard.
I search frantically for the light from where I hang, but I can no longer see it.

I am going to die.

Please, God, help me! Somebody, help me! Anyone!

And just as the path is crumbling under my fingers—
As I am slipping—
As I am going to fall—
As the blackness lunges for me—

A hand grips mine.
A firm but gentle hold.
I open my eyes.
I see a figure.

I am pulled up.
I am placed back onto the path.
I regain my balance, and my senses return.

I look up.
There is a figure of light.
Its hand is outstretched towards me.

I reach forward.
The figure disappears.
I am surrounded by something warm.
Something protective.
Something passionate.

The path before me is smooth.
The sound around me is but a murmur.
The images taunting me are pushed away.

I am running again.
I am running towards the light.

And with help, I will get there.
There's no doubt about that.