A gate
Plain and humble
Guarding the way to my sanctuary
My hidden refuge
The latch clicking shut behind me.

Beyond the gate,
A sun-dappled path,
Set in rough stone
Gravel crunching under my heel
Each step freedom.

The sweet perfume of wild flowers
Permeates the air
Growing between the ancient oaks
In uneven ranks along the trail.

The babbling of a creek
Draws me off my course
Like gold draws a miser.

I step into a wooded grove
A sparkling creek flowing
Cold, clear, and swift
Chilling my hand
As it cuts through the water.

The songs of birds,
The rustling of the wind through the grass,
The gentle gurgling of the creek,
Echo in the peaceful silence.

The sword at my side
Growing heavy with each passing moment
My weary fingers let it drop
Blade sinking into the soft earth.

Peace cannot last
Weary of heart
I stalk through the gate
The quiet click of the latch
Lost in the din of my mind.