Finding Places Poem by Franz Of Lion

Clandestine meetings over the border.
In the condemned house where love lives alone,
Surrounded by hopes that soon to molder;
A bane yet a trysting place we call home.
Chained on the opposite side of the room,
Enduring the sight of the fogged window.
Destined journey that has yet to resume;
Together with a fool in a limbo.
Rusted shackles, will against decadence;
In search of true bliss instilled brisk escape
To mountains of eden through providence,
Yearning to venture onto its landscape.
The now opened door welcomed the poor soul,
Freed by the same thing keeping it in woe.