An ancient hieroglyph traced on the earth,
Where an artist paused
In younger times, I’ve heard say,
The encrusted old had a better part to play.
Spores from another place
That understood the weft of space
Memories of candles light the empty church.
A clock’s muffled measure in an endless dusk.
Gladring was a knight of whom it’s told
that man and maids found fairest to behold
Wise men from the East
Dangling fish from sticks
Cavalcade, grease paint, thundering horses
Behind the fortune tellers tent a lovers’ tryst.
Still no word - no beginning,
No tendril of connection
We have travelled far,
Following our own faded footprints,
Kneel?
Not while I can still stand.
