So tells the tale where they depart,
A road they travel ne the clouds part,
Nor knowing where they go but where,
For past had had not made them there,
But at the glooming end disprove,
Indeed sought better life improve,
Embarks on a journey ne help,
Walks slow, stead forward but ne whelp;
In they thus believe a road ne walked,
That once performed with friends then talked,
At that place very, so silent at once,
Oh God, have I past these pronounce,
Nor mine eyes lied for sight that gauge,
In their guffaw none their bonds forge,
Let blood make pour from eyes that tear,
Having walked all ways aback in fear,
Brave sought today was fear ought erst,
Could never look right nor left at first,
And goes on by their lives and theirs,
Befriends those they far closer fares,
This road that what ice chilled them so,
That road whose fires warmed them so,
This fog that nor unknown betroth,
Sung a sly muse to walk them through,
Casts their silent pasts to the floor,
Where thus they leave gone by the door,
Leaves again by the road travelled,
Not yet done their past makes shrivelled,
Knowing that what once they enjoyed,
No longer is what they enjoyed,
Can not join, nor to jump, nor climb,
Whence for high ground they reach in time,
Continues with their life at fault,
As at that point they are adult.

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Life, Poetry, Works
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