The Rusty Gate

8/2/12 Enshrouding blackness leaves me breathless Crippled crows caw for rest upon the iron opening Darkness and greed is their abode The rest are ridden on fire into the starless night Where and when will the dawn lift its head? Crisp and cool is the lifeless ground I tread Until all trails of energy are left for dead Wandering blindly into sheets of hot, sweltering rain Whistling winds leading me to the teeth of the rusty gate As the crows caw their unrest And souls of endless fog cry beneath It is sad and frightening to know That the slightest creak of the opening gate Will bring the wailing souls a beautiful, false Hope. . .