Unmoored but Unafraid

There's a pervasive rot that's gripped my core:

It is ever-wrought with deep regret —

A life not wasted but not truly spent;

I am fragments of a life unmoored.

I've grown stagnant like I’ve not before;

I can taste the stale air on my breath:

My once-bright plans now nebulous,

The once-clear path obscured.

Not knowing which decision best to make,

I wander through a lonely place

Of ancient fears and anxieties old,

Where a horrid dark reigns unopposed.

So, I light one fire, then a hundred more,

And return my weary spirit to my chest —

The time has not yet come for me to rest;

But still there is time to mourn

The countless bridges that I've set to burn

Upon pyres from where I first took steps

Toward a path I’ve yet to tread:

Toward the respite for which I yearn.

With each stride forward that I take,

Any progress is equalled by mistakes;

Unfamiliar and untrodden is the road

That leads out from fear and into hope.