A Grove By The Gate

 

Sigh of night's eternal breath
Shadowed leaves, whispered secrets play
A grove lies still enwreathed in living death
Its ancient boughs eclipsing moonlit sway

There, 'mid the glade, a well of blackened stone
Its depths unplumbed, its waters dark as grief
Hums a tune in voices not its own
A mournful hymn beneath the verdant thief

Yet by the grove a gate of lambent gold
Illumined bright against the umbral tide
Stands sentinel, its mysteries untold
A beacon’s gleam where wandering shades abide  

The well and gate—two hearts of fate entwined
One drenched in shadow, one in radiant glow
The thirsting soul by spectral whispers blind
Must choose which path its weary steps shall go

I linger long, where darkness wraps its veil
And yet the gate’s warm light enchants my gaze
The well’s deep song, a sweet and mournful wail
Calls forth my dreams this endless maze

O grove, thou art a riddle wrapped in night
A harbinger of secrets vast and strange
Thy gate and well, twin keepers of delight
Each gives peace but each the soul may change

Shall I descend into the well’s embrace
To drown in truths that haunt the sleepless mind?  
Or shall I pass the gate’s resplendent face
And leave the grove, its shadows left behind?