The Anteroom

How small I have become to linger too long in territory I can not withstand Tiny whispers spread like an eagle's fan across mounting skies that ignite beckon calls to retreat to more familiar land I've crossed these roads All too familiar now but willfully still To step aside and allow you to take the upper hand. The starlight lays its golden egg tucked deep in distant clouds to stake a pilgrim's claim The raven black rescinds To higher ground still to amend the passing of two worlds dusk versus dawn Which will prevail