Robert Frost sought as inspiration, this is what I immediately wrote in a short sporadically inspired period upon reading some of his material. I typically write songs now, but this one was a short poem, meant to touch upon the plight of the human mind throughout its journey into oblivion and back.

Rustling beyond the iron gates,
Bristled flakes relay their fate,
And though I may be passing through,
The ghostly chill conducts my haste,
Footsteps bathe these empty walls,
A stranger in the distance calls,
To meet the wind's tune of remorse,
That lends my aching soul its course,
And still as life in open doors,
He speaks in tunes that I implore,
Assuage myself of mind and bend,
Until I reach the journey's end,
But miles long and lonesome know,
That this heart has a ways to go,
To find just where the river flows,
To find just where the river flows…