From the lurks of inky murk
we were, fell from the healthy surface
where the breathing, living dwell, oblivious
of our plaintive hurl. We curl,
a pained recoil.
Clasped by that which tricked the light
out of our essences.
Far too long, such smothering
dark blanket.
We must brave the glare,
a limb out,
from these grasping shadows.
We will be back one day
(We, the light forgotten,
dark begotten)
with light to smite like a javelin.
We will win.