The Path

I was 15 years old when I wrote this.  It feels kinda Giver/Hunger Games-esque to me.  I'm not sure if that was what I was going for at the time.

The Path

Down a clandestine path.

Swift feet guide the sly through escapades of the kind.

Raised face welcomes the light of a full moon.

Where a racing heart speeds for a reason

Accompanied by heavy breathing,

And sudden periods of silence.

Where a watchful eye

And clever ears

Sense danger.

Rapid legs carry a life

Through thick trees and noisy brush

To a place of safety.

But eyes see no refuge.

And willpower being strong,

Takes one’s life

Knowing that another of the kind will come along

Look upon this soul,

Seek the knowledge of all that has been fought for

Also will,

Like him,

Taste freedom with the vigor of an addict.

Captured will he be, like the one before him,

And continue on this feat.

For something which does not exist.

Down a cryptic path.