(With apologies to this short story, which remains one of the most frightening things I’ve ever read.)
Falling foot took me from pathway.
Pathway changing, headed downward.
Downward, good, I like this choosing;
Choosing ever darker forests-
Forests which reach out and grab me-
Me and them now of the same part.
Part god, maybe? I cannot tell;
Tell me: have I reached my ending?
Ending nearing, now I’m all freed,
Freed from Godly observation,
Observation, foolish scruples,
Scruples- weren’t they a sin once?
Once I thought that sin had being.
Being now my definition,
Inflicted: an odd word for rising,
Rising, yes, for I’m not falling.