The End

Emmeline Chiang '26

The gates creak open with dusty

fervor, stale earth wafting from

scrawling, sprawling

lines.

You touch fingers to your lips and

breathe the rustling paper

of once-crisp leaves.

Forty two sentences seated you

fall

is like a flaming mockingjay

perched atop its

green pining

for a green

light across the bay

window.

Beware, it says,

a shadow runs this gladed maze

not unlike the buzzing 

whisper of indolent horseflies—

all those who

wander

are lost.

You, however, are a traveler

on this all world’s stage,

staging an odyssey to lands solid

solidly landing

with your legs grass-rashed

and hands heavy

with a story.