Fifteen times the leaves had shorn,
Trod by boy and beast
Kith and kin to fare him well

The youngling parted east

The rite was whet and worn with time,

As sons dared risk unseen
Mere passage had convinced the herd,
And none defied routine


Eyes, fixed afar - a trial to come
Now, his suffering - only begun


He journeyed deep into the woods,
And took no drink or food

Desperate to become a man,
'Fore stupor choked his mood


Carrion gloated at each step,
In dreams the evil milled
Doubting every sickened thought

Depraved against his will
Eyes, turn inwards - observe with hate
Now, this suffering - will not abate


Growing weakness in his gait
He slumped beneath the sun

Each bleeding foot began to weep
Skin and bone was one


Rousing with a fitful gasp
He crawled on tattered knees
And bound for home by moon and star

His trial was complete

Staggers carried him to town

His joy was soon to shed
Kith and kin would greet him not
For each one was dead


The sixteenth leaves began to fall
Indifferent, they withstood

Now, a man with nothing left
He turned back for the wood