Sonnet #1

A stranger on the lonely path, I stand

next to a tall, imposing iron gate

with but a golden key within my hand

placed there by the capricious winds of Fate.

Dare I, with trembling hand, open the door—

fit key to lock, and see what lies concealed?

What strange new spirits populate that shore?

What secret lands are readily revealed?

And as the darkness gathers, I decide

to wait with patience, though pain pierce my soul.

On this gray plain I'll, for a time, abide

until the riddle's meaning is made whole.

Key safe in hand, back to the gate's cold form,

tempered with caution, I'll outwait the storm.