I met an old man walking slow beside the
road,
He smiled tried to sell me lies to lighten my
load.
“Your brother passed the gates not long ago,”
He winked and said, “They let him swiftly
go.”
Still wrapped in echoes none but I had known,
Still in my cloak of guilt, I walked alone.
A merchant stood beside the dusty way,
And weighed men’s souls as though they were
his pay.
He whispered softly, “Gold will buy your
peace,”
Yet truth and mercy he refused to release.
His laughter faded where the wind had blown,
Still in my cloak of guilt, I walked alone.
A painted lady leaned beside the track,
She smiled and said, “Why carry burdens
back?”
Her voice was sweet, yet emptiness was there,
A hollow promise drifting through the air.
I left her where the broken roses lay,
Still in my cloak of guilt, I walked away.
A thin man watched the road with bitter eyes,
He cursed the joy of those who reached the
skies.
A blind man mocked the cloak that I had worn,
“A garment stitched from guilt since you were
born.”
They laughed and hissed, their voices sharp
as stone,
Still in my cloak of guilt, I walked alone.
A silent crowd stood watching by the gate,
Their eyes were cold with indifference and
hate.
When I arrived, the gates were barred and
high,
I cried in vain; they hissed, “Go, begone, or
die.”
I named each sin I carried deep inside,
Yet still the gates refused to open wide.
Then from above a shadow spoke to me,
A cloaked stranger appearing mysteriously.
He said, “Those men who stole your youth
confessed,
Their wicked boasts revealed the bitter
test.”
“They bragged of all the harm that they had
done,
The broken child they mocked and overrun.”
He knew the truth I could not yet explain,
That guilt I bore had never been my stain.
I turned and left the gates along the road,
Past him who sells deceit and hollow load.
The mountain path was rough beneath my feet,
Yet every step made distant echoes weak.
Then Pride appeared where jagged stones were
cast,
And mocked the timid child that had stood
fast.
“I am your measure!” he declared in scorn,
But I had grown beyond the wounds of morn.
Envy rose next and whispered in my ear,
“I gave you hope, then stole it — insincere.”
Yet hope once lost can rise and shine anew,
Its light now guided every breath I drew.
Wrath hurled his stones with rage along the
track,
He roared that all had failed to hold me
back.
But pain had built a wall no rock could
breach,
The fury flew, and yet it could not reach.
The night grew deep along the mountain way,
Old doubts returned with things they used to
say.
The voice of guilt still whispered in my
head,
The cruel old words the mocking children
said.
Then far beyond the ridge a star appeared,
A gentle light that calmed the doubts I
feared.
It shone with warmth I somehow seemed to
know,
A distant memory from long ago.
And as I climbed beneath the quiet skies,
I saw the child reflected in its rise.
The wounded soul they tried to cast aside
Had kept a flame of truth alive inside.
The old man waited where the road grew thin,
The same sly smile still curling on his chin.
“You’ve travelled far,” he said, “but still
beware,
The gates of peace may close when you are
there.”
But now I saw the truth beyond his eyes,
He lived and breathed by trading only lies.
I took his words and cast them in the pit,
Where hollow fears and broken echoes sit.
His shape grew thin, like smoke before the
wind,
For lies cannot endure where truth has settled
in.
I reached the ridge where dawn began to rise,
And felt no cloak of guilt before the skies.
The star dissolved in morning’s golden air,
And love itself stood waiting for me there.
No shadow now could touch my soul within,
The child survived — the light that led me
in.
Written By: Alan.Clark@WW1POET
(March 2026)
