After the emperor and the emperor’s soldiers left
the walled city. After the dust from their horses
had settled. The great black-lacquered doors closed.
The heavy wooden bar was slid into place.
The rest of the day was spent, for those left behind,
folding and unfolding hands. They watched
the gut-red sun disappear. They felt bereft without
the day, without the mountains to look upon.
And in the back of their minds was the thought
of the one forgotten gate left unsecured.
To find a path, all doubt must do is wait.