Oct 09

The Fence

There is a fence, you know
It seperates the living from the dead
If you walk one hundred miles directly west of the brightest star
It's difficult to get too, hard to see they say
You have given up
If you have given up, if you are not spry anymore, if even a dog recoils from your touch because
They can smell the cloak of sadness around you
You see the net quite easily
I've visited, many moons ago
It comes back to me in dreams
Sometimes that's what it takes to keep you alive
Seeing the fence