The Gates of Hell

			
How far we’ve come, the gates of hell
Rot and fest gilds the iron gate
No eye keeps watch for lack of hope
A love to satisfy the hate
 
Travellers come and do not go
Save for the few that know the way
Poet and prophet, same
 
What was the way to this black gate?
What is this path that terminates?
Beyond, below, the dance and play
Of things that would be better not to say.
 
The music is the stuff of gods
The valleys hunger, leech, and hold
The muttering men with better odds
And pay their tithe to Fortune old.
 
Dark Lady, mistress, keeper, here,
Not out of fear, nor love, you rule,
But as a courier swift and true,
But as a Regan and a Goneril
 
‘My son, my son, hold out your hand,
‘And let me see the ladies mark.
‘The band and scar and promise true,
‘A witches mark upon your heart
‘On witches poison drunk are you
‘And damned your tongue with liars’ plan.’
 
Will you guess, and will you guess
The man behind the curtain is not you
But is some other fellow, meeker, true
But proficient in the art and plan
Of others, still, of greater skill
Do not bother with the pleasantry
He has brought you by unknown plan
And waits, again, for his cue.