Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

Drifting thru a sea of darkness that surrounds me,
I reach a fork in the road.
From one side of the fork comes a heavy draft of dry,
Scorched air.
But will it lead me to the surface?
The proverbial light at the end of the other tunnel,
Tunnel barely a pin prick far off in the distance,
Appearing at times to wink out altogether,
Never getting any closer. Could it be a mirage?
False hope haphazardly developed by a broken mind,
Trying desperately to protect itself from oneself?
Don’t think.
To do so could be detrimental to one’s health.
Like with the pressing of a detonator button,
The mind wishes to be vaporized into oblivion.
Instantly part of the darkness once again,
Dissipated into a blessed nothingness.
No, it’s not safe to think!
But one must because the nothingness is a lie.
Assuredly there is nowhere that nothing exists and
Nowhere to hide. 
Not from one’s self and most certainly not from God,
So why try?
The mind protecting the body reminds itself that 
The light is not mirage, 
That darkness cannot hold back the light of God.
So I drift down the tunnel,
Towards the pinprick of light off in the distance.
And though the tunnels narrows,
The light brightens and I am nearly free.
Just think:
Eternity’s just ahead.

Disclaimer: The views in this article are those of the author. Prison Journalism Project has verified the writer’s identity and basic facts such as the names of institutions mentioned.

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Brandon Ford

Brandon Ford is a writer incarcerated in Florida.