Classic Poem

Open the doors of the dark,
knock down the black spectres
that we might behold branches
ripe with dew.

We’ll wet our cracked lips
with cool unworldly water,
and never cast a doubt
or curse the unminding moon.

Let the rutty road not burn,
a worm not canker our cores,
and wholehearted,
we’ll follow like cherubim.

Let our brows’ brine
not blind our vision,
the pain from our sores
not sully our spirits,

and we’ll say
the world’s not a whim
or a stupid tale
full of sound and fury.

Open the doors,
or desperately,
we’ll break them down with our fists.

Slide us some sense,
some light
under the gates of worry.