This room is growing dimmer.
Dark will come upon soon.
All I see is the glimmer
Of the faint, cloud-covered moon.
All that’s left is the shimmer
Going, going, gone too soon.
This, too, is inevitably fading
Even as we speak.
All the while, I keep on waiting
For the evasive light I seek.
All the while, it continues to be
Too distant, far too weak.
Pitch black now, I felt around
For any sort of guide.
My hopes were being drowned
Ebbing like the tide.
I slid down the wall, sank to my knees,
Tipped back my head and sighed.
It was I who the darkness would swallow.
To the black, I prepared to give in.
But I brushed against something hollow
And metallic, sort of like tin.
Tilting the can, liquid sloshed around inside
And oil spilt from within.
New faith emerged in a flash,
The tide rising once more.
Swelling like a breaker and falling with a crash
Soaking the dry, sandy shore.
The oil could help me escape.
I could use it – but what for?
I rose upon my trembling feet
With outstretched hands that fumbled
For something else to aid my retreat –
Then onto a box I stumbled.
It held very little, for when it tipped over
Out a flint and steel tumbled.
The final piece to my puzzle,
The missing link in my plan,
Was worth the aching muscle.
It sat in the palm of my hand.
I knew exactly what to do –
And I made my way back to the can.
Dunking the steel in the oil,
I took on a resolute stance.
Into friction the pieces were embroiled,
And the sparks began to dance.
Then flame engulfed them both –
This was my only chance.
I threw the two at the box,
Setting the whole thing aglow.
The hue of an autumn fox
Took over the ground below.
It’s strange to think I was so helpless,
So discouraged, not long ago.
Wide open I kept my eyes
As I dodged the flames across the floor.
Keeping my eyes on the prize,
I headed toward the door.
Once upon a time, not long ago,
I was trapped – but not anymore.