Every Soul that passes the gate,
Has passed a test of fate,
Trudging along on tired feet,
Almost there, refusing to be beat..
By the window ledge of feathery friend,
Space remained the fragile
authority to sleep,
As yet undoubted, somnolence
to cast its shadow creep,
Over forms and formulations,
Over what has been said and
what must be done,
Lending each the insubstantiality
of its domain,
Wanted the focus of its...