I sit, I wait,
Staring into the undesirable gate,
Which awaits those of my ill fate.
It is not for me to speculate what lies beyond the gate,
Nor deny the inevitable desire to gain the knowledge's weight.
Curiosity, it hinders my passion for life's sweet kiss,
For jubilees missed and turns my mind again to the undesirable gate.
What ill fate may await,
As I approach the gate.
Perhaps none, instead flight might I take.
Why must it be an undesirable gate.
Do all wish such ill fate. Perhaps, fate is what we make.
I desire to cross the gate and accept my fate.