Then I Stop

No colour can touch my eyes
that breaks this wave of thoughts.

Or so I think.

The black marks on the keyboard clicking non-stop,
chaining one shape to another, draining one breath
to another, flashing an eluding mystery
on this white wall.

Now I pause in my step, advancing backward,
before revealing forward, searching for light
in a cave, finding nothing before moving
to the next.

Seeping through a tiny window it comes
unmasking my fear, marking my loss,
betraying a past or desire
in the scent of realisation.

Then I stop.