Friday, January 22, 2016

The Little Path

There is a little path
Beyond a little gate
Where all smells dark and green,
And trees in silence wait.

That little gate unlocks
Your own heart holds the key
And your feet tiptoe in
With strained temerity.

You cannot see what waits
Beyond that path’s first bend
But it is time to dare
And find where it will end.

So still, you hold your breath,
Yet venture, for you must,
Lest hope should lose its way
And dwindle into dust.

Here lies the hidden way
To those forgotten things
Which you must seek and find,
And build them into wings.

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