Four Years

Four years have come and gone

And all the while

I've felt peace

I've begun to wonder

Whether any of my life is real

Or just a dream.

Honestly I don't have the answer.

No one does.

There is a great and totemic stone

Deep in the woods,

On a path only I know.

And there it bears a hole

Just the size of the signet

Of my beloved's killers.

But this hole bears a marking unlike 

Any I have seen before.

The symbol of a bull, who bears the sun on it's horns.

Yet I am too afraid to push the signet into the hole, 

For when that happens,

There will be no turning back.