tayne

The Rusted Door

Trapped between black and white_

Is that which is forgotten

Carried away to the ends of eternity

Borne anew, yet fragments remain

A reminder of that rusty door

Key lost; despite the thought of uncovering it

A tear-bear contract still in place

 

A trial to undo the impossible_

Dwelling in its own conscience

Is a broken wand, devalued and ostracised?

Not one could tell, being robbed of opinion

To find that which is lost,

To force open that which was shut

It claims to return stronger