On the Threshold

Now life becomes a bitter struggle, a
Feud unresolved between  bitter rivals:
Though time gone by has shown us blessings still
Time passes them without a word and shows
Itself to be a duplicitous foe
That feasts itself upon my present straits;
Like a shadow unseen, a spiders web
I walked straight through and found to my dread, late,
That my foe desired to acquit himself
As honorable to duty, and make
Of me such mince meat, as would give him slake.
My life, then and there given, he would take.
Yet to cross me with his blade he must cross life;
Must go against it with his bitter strife.

                      On the Threshold, (c) Luke Bennette, May 2012