the sound of everything

I walk into the light
I see what’s behind me
It’s dark back there
Just like in my dream
I stop for a while
I’m not breathing
I’m not living
I’m just seething
And I
Can hear
My footsteps
Echoing
Though, they’re muffled by the sound
of everything
that’s still breathing
And I
cannot see
my finger tips
As my hand stretches
In front me
It’s grasping at the gate
Yet somehow I can think.
What is that light that caresses me to sleep?

(note: both this and the next post are excerpted from a story I am writing called "Grace")