In the winter of the day
The brethren of green wear white;
Blue celestials are veiled in gray
O'er the long winding stone path
Alone through the edge slight
Where the narrows narrate wrath
Through a forest of green pines
Scratching at the heavens as hackles
Of the mad dogs running along the lines
Into hell’s fires; licking at the open adit
Overseen by gargoyles strained by
shackles
Spewing their fit with spitted warns “Let It!”
“Beast, what matters do you keep
Beyond this entrance of dark and fear;
What remains there to be found within
deep?”
“Who is it that stands at the door?”
The unrelenting knocks seek an answer
clear
The pounding blows do more implore
“Open, Open! “ - For neither evil nor
good with stand
At the threshold of the splintered
barrier
The visitant is in your eye and calls
with your hand
Shall you let it in; shall you let it out
What saith the incessant voice; shall it be
harrier
Shall intents become contents to live out
in doubt
“Who is it that stands at the door?”
With unrelenting knocks seeking answers
clear
The pounding blows do more implore
In the winter of the day
The brethren of green wear white;
Blue celestials are veiled in gray.
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