The Distant Light
by Esther Elizabeth Racah
The distant light danced on the edge of sight,
Just beyond reach, just out of grasp.
Steps grew weary in the endless night,
Hope a fragile, fleeting clasp.
It wavered like a ghostly flame,
Teasing those who sought its glow,
Led them through a darkened frame—
A journey where shadows flowed.
The distant light flickered in a fractured motion,
A beacon in the void of night,
Its promise, a fleeting trance,
Drew seekers with its might.
Each step became an endless strain,
As the light stayed a phantom’s tease,
Shadows stretched across the plain,
Sapped strength, stole ease.
It cast its lure, a wavering beam,
Guided through a twisted maze—
A dream of light, a distant gleam,
Faded with the morning rays.
In the end, the distant light stayed afar,
A glimmer in the vast expanse—
Shifted like a shooting star,
Left shadows in its dance.
The distant light remained a guide,
A symbol of hopes untold,
Led those who sought with pride
To where stories unfolded.
Yet every seeker, with weary steps,
Found only relics of the light—
A fleeting longing in the endless sweep
Of darkness that devoured the night.
They chased that light through valleys deep,
Through mountains steep and vast oceans,
But each pursuit was met with slumber,
Where ghouls mocked the seekers’ stride.
Some turned back, their strength undone,
By the weight of dreams unrealised.
Others pressed on toward the sun,
Their hearts filled with fire, yet their eyes were disguised.
The distant light, a siren’s call,
Drew them close, then farther still.
Through winding paths and towering walls,
It beckoned with an iron will.
It whispered promises in the cold blizzard,
Of realms untouched by grief and woe—
Of restful nights and peaceful seas,
Where weary spirits might one day go.
But every promise led to nought,
As the light played tricks on eager minds.
What once was found was soon forgotten,
In a labyrinth of endless signs.
The distant light became a hymn,
Descanted by the wind, carried by dreams,
An encomium of hope that lingered long,
In the hearts of those lost in its gleam.
Still, they chased, though hope grew thin,
Through dense forests and deserts,
Believed in the light within—
A dream that never seemed to die.
But in the end, the light vanished in the darkness,
A ghostly wisp, a fleeting flame,
A memory that could not be tamed,
A distant star without a name.
The distant light would never become
A guide for those who dared to dream—
Just a memory of a fainted beacon in eternity,
That flickered in the unseen stream of imagination.
