Along the Way
Windswept walls of ancient stone
scoured by the ages of time stark
And now, the only sound, a single lark
building a nest in a tower so alone
The Keep, now but a rotted pile
where once it was a stately home
Now where only gusts of wind roam
upon an empty plain, amid the miles
Their dreams were real too, like mine
worthy to be dreamed, and lived out
Gentle dame and honest hero stout
making their lives both course and fine
Gone now, but not really altogether forgot
if we remember their struggle just to be
We will find, that they are the same as we
souls moving ever on the path, as is our lot