The Coming of the Light (Poetry - Non-rhyming)

I have reasons to fear the coming of the light.

They are waiting now, in the darkness
And I sense them shuffling unheard feet.
I fear that any change will break this stalemate;
will precipitate action again on a large scale.
And so I fear the coming of the light.

On a hilltop I stand, and bodies line the paths that lead to its summit,
Wracked by pain and death; and their blood mingles on my blades,
But there are more to come. Now, for this short time they wait,
And I breathe in the darkness as if I could pull enough inside to disappear.
And I fear the coming of the light.

It could be a mercy to see them, to know who and what it is that screams as my blades pull the life from their bodies.
But I am one man, and I have but two arms with which to slay.
The darkness is my ally, it confuses their attacks,
It causes them to wound each other as I snake in and out and twirl between deaths.
And so I fear the coming of the light.

The battle has forced me away from friendship, from love,
It drives me to reach the summit above, to the goal, to the prize,
Though I know not what it is, or what may await me in the darkness.
Its urgency pushes me onward, and I ignore all else,
Except my fear, of the coming of the light.

My fighting is free and unrestrained; I have abandoned myself to the slaughter,
For I have no friends whom I might wound, and each precise thrust spills foe’s blood.
My only questions are moot by now, for even the asking could spell death.
Who is it that I fight, in my unending battle? Who is it that screams when I thrust; whose breathe rattles out into the night?
I fear the coming of the light.

Lonely I stand, in the midst of many. My touch only wounds, my comfort lies in blood.
And for now, they stand away, and wait.
But battle will be rejoined soon, I hear the growing impatience in their ragged breaths.
And my own mirror them.
But still I fear the coming of the light.

The reason for this battle escapes me; I fight because that is what I have always done.
And I wonder if those arrayed against me know this secret drive,
Or if indeed there is reason at all.
Do we all fight so that the fighting will continue?
Do we all fear the coming of the light?

I have heard, in the darkness, those who have given up.
They throw away their weapons, and walk towards the summit unarmed.
I have heard them cut down, by others or myself, but it seemed as if;
Perhaps the darkness was less while they lived.
Did they, too, fear the coming of the light?

And what if, however insane it might seem, they were not alone,
And many threw down their arms and walked together?
Surely it would only mean their deaths… Surely;
Because this is a battle, this life.
And we must fear the coming of the light.

But as I wait for the fight to resume, with my weapons in hand,
I cannot help but remember, how the darkness seemed a little less,
And think that maybe… If there were enough who worked together,
Could the darkness be driven back?
Does it, too, fear the coming of the light?

Those around me move closer, and I throw down my weapons.
I know not why, nor how, nor what will happen to me.
And I fear the consequences of my actions, but at least I have chosen them,
And no longer, not today nor evermore,
Will I fear the coming of the light.

They stop for a moment, those hungry souls,
And I see what they see, what causes them to hesitate.
I cannot help it; it is all around me… The darkness has lessened.
And as I walk towards the summit, no longer afraid, I know.
This is the coming of the light.