He bears the torch,
the light that keeps him sane.
With this flame,
he marches into this
deep, dark, ominous forest
that his life has become.
Leave behind the sunshine,
the green plains, the blue skies,
all of that which bear false reality.
All is just a dream that shields,
the coming storm.
When the rain falls (and it will),
Hide,
among the trees.
Alone.
For only he can protect that flame.
The precious source of life, light, and warmth.
For that light shall lead him home,
give him warmth through the cold nights,
and will feed the hope
that burns brightly inside.
