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...
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