Behind Wrought Iron

The weed-choked path through oak forest ruled by elder branch and flower
Leads twisted souls past gate-kept lawn and rolling hill
Lakeside dream resting gray and damp beneath iron peak
Cobbled drive welcoming none and all—come and do not stay
Here I await gawking gaze and shrieking laugh
Questions unanswered in this age
What strange…
But why…
Hear notes of bending melody twist through frozen air
Wonder at the source striking rumble in chill morning breath
Awake before the dawn and wonder why
Not ready for the day, but ready to dash against it
Break through at all cost, not for want of any comfort
But knowing death for what it is:
A cessation
To cease throwing weight against an unscalable height
It is not fear of death that drives
But a knowledge that death comes for all
And most are forgotten

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