And thus I stood where thresholds melt like glass
Becoming indistinct as light, withdrawn,
Denies the pilgrim knowledge of the mass
And weight of this, the journey he is on.
There I remained, awaiting thresholds, taut
As dogs await the master's sign to run.
The pilgrim finds delight in roads he sought,
But fear instead when thresholds show him none.
Oh light, remain, thou unabashed stain.
postscript
Sonnet petit. Inspiration struck today. Not sure I'm completely happy with it.