Upon my way to the hunting Grounds,
Encounter I a mirror;
To me I think, how so profound!—
To me myself is nearer.

Confused I am, to see this face,
Yet older, wise, and grey;
The mirror forces, case by case,
For one to see life's pay.

The pay is good, (most likely not)
Beware, for danger abounds!
In its clutches you shan't be caught—
But wriggle free, and it astound.

The hunting ground is nearer now,
And to it you shall heave—
Please, I beg, to it not bow—
For it shall be bereaved.

The journey, tho short and sweet,
Was tragic all the way—
From sucking on the mother's teat
To final repose lay.

Out from the casting shadows, now
Death's grin, a stony clamp—
A crown of black upon its brow—
To drag you back to camp.

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Hey, guys it's been a while! I've been writing some, but can't post on GA yet because I don't have a PC. If you want to read my stuff, I'll be updating my site soon at atheugoreistories.wordpress.com. Please visit and comment!