The light at the end of the tunnel is alive and breathing.
It shines, forever unaware of its influence,
Totally oblivious to its grandeur.
Its brightness is fueled by modesty and consideration,
For everyone besides itself.
For some, it is the support upon which they stand,
And the hope upon which they fall.
As it gleams, day in and day out,
Occasionally flickering with exhaustion,
It provides a solemn sense of reassurance to those that look its way.
For some, it is the gratification of victory,
And the sweet relief of success.
As it glows, every day without fail,
Blinking only to shed a tear,
It says goodbye to one dream fulfilled, and hello to the next aspiration.
For some, it is the worship of idols, and the inspiration drawn from heroes.
As it glistens, reliably from day to day,
Wavering just for a moment,
It drives a fanatical passion,
And cheers for its onlookers with unparalleled fervor.
For me, it is the love of two men,
And the continual joy that they lay on my heart.
As they twinkle, relentlessly, oblivious to their significance,
They congest my soul with gratitude,
And dam my spirit with value.
The lights at the end of the tunnel are alive and breathing.
One is my soul mate,
The other is teething.
Fortune has never blinded me so deeply,
As these two bright lights that will never stop beaming.