A Beacon of Grace

A vague longing

propels me like a carrot

on a horse’s stick

it is more haunting than taunting

Mystery beckoning

like a beacon of grace.

I fear it could be death’s

whisper I am following –

and if so, is it friend or foe?

Am I being led off the cliff like a lummox?

Or attracted to the hot air balloon of ascension?