Outside the door hangs heavy
and hinges moan. The sill
grasps the ground itself to cleave
the known by mighty act of will,
as gloom cloaks with soot the heart
of each who watches one depart.
But each who’s ventured through
praises light brilliant, bright,
embracing the beckoning new
though to the dark she sets sight.
Yes, tears outside the door will fall,
not for who passed but for us all.
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