The traveler wanders through the dark
Straining to find and maintain the path
The darkness does not stretch before him;
It meets him at his face.
Inside of his eyes.
In his soul.
Every sound he makes emanates from his body
Cruises deftly through the void
Bounces and echoes back
Straight through him.
The darkness infiltrates his being.
Every movement deprives him of himself.
He becomes it.
It becomes him.
Bereft of light,
They become one.
I specifically wrote this poem with no particular metaphor in mind. I think that this kind of imagery can take on a multitude of meanings, and I wanted every one of them to be right for the individual who thought of it. So it is. (If this ever winds up in an English textbook, I apologize to the teachers who must accept all interpretations of it. And to those students, you're welcome.)
There is one solid thing about this poem: the imagery is based off of my thoughts on the absolute darkness of a cave before the lighting is put in for all of the tourists.