Blinded,
by the beam,
wrestled the darkness,
by the stranglehold,
getting straight through,
to the soul’s residence.

Stopped,
between the red and white,
lights,
splitting them,
as two angels appeared,
to save my life.

On a lightless hill,
close to mementos,
of those,
who were not,
so fortunate,
on their,
dark nights.

Photo by Will Swann on Unsplash