The ninth gate

There are nine gates to hell,
each harder than the last,
each with a different way to go,
they try to tug you down,
they try to make you go,
for they are the nine gates to hell.

Each has a cortex,
a path if you will,
a way to find yourself,
a way to go down,
or up if you wish,
for there is only one way out of hell.

the way down takes the form of a river,
a different way to cross,
but the ninth cortex,
is the stars in the sky,
the future if you could say,
each makes it harder,
each wants to say,
they can tell your time,
even if you cannot,
for they are the cortex,
of many lives lost.


The End

2 comments about this poem Feed