Boundaries are bridges
with misty edges
they can’t be seen
they can’t be felt
until the crossing

The other side is green
with newly sprunged roses
and water springs
or so it seems
until the crossing

As you pass
your clothes are stripped
and you long for what you left behind
But where you crossed, a steep ravine
and what you had it never was

So mind you, that you will be told
that roses are beautiful and springs delicious
To you they’ll never be
Listen to me

When all is done
what’s left is you - post crossing -
and the ringing laugh
of those who fooled you