I stand before the threshold
That binds me still
Breathing my final breaths bold
Even though they in come chills

I do not believe those who lie
To make a heaven out of hell
I take fate like sweet pie
Enjoyed whether served in a hot or cold shell

I mark this dawning eve
As you mark your seasons
Not in fear of what it may bring
But in acceptance of time's reasons

Upon this eve
When dew flows through purgatory's gates
When my feet cling to the wet grass
When the cold fog embraces my soul
When the end is just a trickle far

The ferryman shall call me forth
On his boat through the coin I give
To sail where God sends me
Away from my troth.

© Omega O.