Dark Woods

This wood is dark and endless, I have been
forever walking with no glimpse of sky.
Each path appears to lead me further in,
while heavy overhead the branches lie.

In shadows, even light lies down to die.
In tangled thickets, pilgrim foot can't tread.
We're born with wings; are we not meant to fly?
How can I stay earthbound when hope has fled?

There's darkness all around, but overhead
a subtle silver shimmer fills the air.
Though sun is down, and day is long since dead,
the starlight counsels me not to despair--

for night must pass, and trees may point the way
and shadows part before eternal day.