Tristan Robert Lange

The Walls

I know the walls you’ve built,
And why you have built them.
They stand impenetrable,
Or so seems the monstrosity.

Barricaded inside the keep,
Fortified by mortared stone,
You hide within the castle
Repelling the outside world.

But you’re not truly safe,
For you’re now imprisoned
In a haunted stone abode
Filled with ghostly demons.

The specters of the past,
An abyss in each shadow
Swallows up all your hope
To escape this hell alive.

But you’ve overlooked it.
You’ve overlooked the one
Who’s calling from within,
Who calls you by name.

The dim light within you
May be dim, but shines
Through the deadly dark
Of your haunted hallways.

The light exposes fissures
In your failing bulwark.
Your fortress is exposed
To be an ill, fallen home.

Light beams permeate
Your walls of entombment.
Listen to the warm voice.
Follow the light to escape.

Now, God be praised, that to believing souls gives light in darkness, comfort in despair.

—William Shakespeare