Early into a new day we emerged from our tents,
Just five as the rest were warmly asleep.
The dark still persisted with a cold grasp,
But we began walking beyond the reach of tall woods.
We were young then, a brighter light shone within us,
Guiding our invisible path to the clearing whilst chatting vigorously.
I was quiet then.
Before I found a truth, my voice gave no vision.
The comforts of speaking came from my drawings or virtuality.
We were far beyond those comforts here in the dark fields.
Here we came to find the sublime,
A beauty hidden from the reaches of man
To connect to a creation forged long ago by a sentient existence.
I wanted to be here to find my truth.
At last emerging from the woods like a proud pack of wolves,
We lift our gaze upwards.
The chatter begins to fade
Amongst the great black sea of the sky laid form a singular wave of stars
So dreadfully distinct, so rightfully revered, upon what thought did the art and greatness come so close in a map of nothingness?
And the truth broke loose from my gaze of the cosmic composure:
Life is beautiful and dark,
Truths are made by the few who fly and fall,
A voice will find meaning if it disregards its imperfections.
My hidden voice will become visible like the stars
And tempered by a patient and accepting mind will it find purpose.
Our voices are the starlights, guiding the unknown road of life.
To me there is no greater truth than this.
By Shane Gibson, aged 19