A gate, an elaborate indication of where I want to be.
My desire to walk by…equal to the wanting to turn back…and, run.
If I enter seeking fortune…all my fears would remain guarded.
To keep moving, strife is as inevitable as, red hawks above and turbulent waters…below.
Beyond the barricade…creation wins.
I cannot stop at the elaboration of a hiding, host.
Mantled mysteries do not lay within the state…I am in.
