The Road

There was a road, lest it lay far beyond the threaded dreams,

And wonders, fragments laid themselves below the waking’s feet

To tread upon subconscious tidings, though the king did speak.

There was a deer, or so I think, shadowed at the end of it;

And a raven, perhaps, though its feathers remain ‘ere laced in ashes,

And upon its trembled nest there lay the rusted crown.

There was a fence, though old as it were, shambled to the core.

The winds did shape its fragile visage; and yet, it stretched across the side,

And so, perhaps, seemed not to end, yet carved its sombre way into the ground.

There was silence; oh, cursed thing, to have made it presence heard,

And though I walked, never footsteps did the spirits whisper.

There was…

...nothing.

So the words began to end;

Yet the road stretched ever on.