Will o the wisp

In a labyrinth-like forest, 

pitchy-black and numbing, 

I come upon a fire. 

There’s a figure 

warming hands close in.

She smiles and gestures. 

I sit, 

watching sparks and smoke, 

letting the heat wrap 

around my spine.

She invites me to stay, 

rest, eat, sleep, 

near the fire.

I ask her name:

Hope, she replies.

And so I move on, 

for I know 

she is a will-o-the-wisp,  

incalculable and vacillating  

as the fog which settles 

and obscures the sight 

of what is right in front of you. 

Hope is not my friend, 

not in this wilderness. 

2 thoughts on “Will o the wisp

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s