Shournagh Line, the Portal to divine

This grey road mingles into the intertwininggreen limbs of the mossy tree’s over-head;Our beastly beige car navigates the course ofthe free flowing river; all flowing withThe Shournagh line. The road, that grey snake of progress and the urban;Making its mark on the once un-spoilt undergrowth;Making its mark on it and me and me with cause and effect.Along the Shournagh Line. Those wooden forms stand like those who first invaded them tall and erect;Deeper from green to gold to the setting sun; twigs and branchesgreet me like an old friend coming home. Those human forms blur in the cold grey sky;Leaves of what is left from the other side fall;Deeper from grey to the white of that smile;Arms greet me like an old friend coming home. Which is the entrance and which is the exit?Which is the better end?This portal has many twists and turns;Trials and tribulations. I learn from the grey of concrete structures and the people that make it gold;Green is where I come from I have observed its treasure;Monsters of elf and man reside;Heroes of these creatures also;Brown or gold?Which is which?On the Shouragh Line. Grey and emerald come as one;Contrary is that fact;Green and grey are my ink and my actions;Leave and brick am I;Portal to the divine;As you and I dear brother;Ride on the shimmering Shournagh Line.