A thought becomes man's greatest snare

not pearls or girls with auburn hair.

Its brightness beckons our pursuit 

A dark, unmapped, exposed commute.

When weakness got the best of me

I followed one into the trees.

Ah, what could draw me from its spark

But words carved deep into the bark?

Woe to the man who wanders here.

Where corpses lay with monsters near

Beware, your safety’s left behind

here in the forest of your mind. 

I beg of you, ignore me not,

Far greater men have gone and fought.

Against the thoughts they can’t contain.

Those who return are not the same.

And though the words intrigued me so

I could not help but long to go.

Oh weakness got the best of me. 

I followed it into the trees. 

I chased my thought till trees grew thick

upon old roots my feet did trip.

Where thorns and thistles bit my knees

and cursed my curiosity.

And when the woods had lost their light,

I realized that old scribe was right.

I crumpled under sudden gain

Of weight of hate for my own name.

Woe to the man who wanders here

where curses form with bonds of fear.

Oh why did I ignore the sign?

Not the same.