A Lonely Place

Whatever lives or grows or dies within the seething copse; whatever eats or sleeps or cries in such a lonely place; whatever harvest there will be when life is old and grey, someone will gather it, keep it, reap it's black and cold disgrace. Whatever children pass this way towards the adult world; whatever dawns on any day may bring a frightened tear; whatever Hell may hold it's sway beneath the tread of man, someone will gather it, keep it, reap it's icy breath of fear. Whatever haven beckons now beyond the stuff of dreams; whatever instinct teaches how to tame the horrified; whatever knowledge leads us to stand up against the night, someone will gather it, keep it, reap it, bury it deep inside...