A House Upon the Brow of Thought

Where tangled roots and shadows lie,
A silent house begins to rise,
Its windows glow, yet fear is caught,
As birds of omen pierce the sky.

The gaze is deep, a tunnel’s flight,
Beyond the mountains, dark and cold.
It pulls me toward eternal night,
Where ancient stories still unfold.

Each branch, a nerve, each leaf, a sign,
Of hidden whispers from the past.
I tremble on this fragile line,
Unsure how long the fear will last.

The landscape speaks in hollow sound,
A path unknown, yet trodden still.
Its peaks like sentinels surround,
Awaiting my uncertain will.

The eye reflects a secret moon,
That watches while the winds decay.
Within its grasp, I sense a rune,
A spell that binds me to its sway.

No tear will fall, no hand will part,
This endless journey, cast in stone.
The house, the gaze, they own my heart,
And now I face this road alone.