in vain

Can I help it?
Probably not
My hands clutched together
Cold and moist like funeral dirt
Ravens tear at the tar black trees
Purpose given, purpose upheld
Wooden Guardians of lost purpose
The smell of dead seasons crawl the forest floor
I claw shattered and hopeful towards yesterday
It was a golden place quite different from tomorrow
Letting gog today ruptured the cocoon
Silent and no longer struggling
The end greets me like I had only been away for a moment
Touching stone and things man made
Thunder echoes in triplicate
Journeys always make this place in due time
Search for me no longer