Mist, dew and rose.

Three songbirds rose
Their wings quiet—
Weaved a riot—

Breath, then bone and blood
Whispered to noise from, for mud
Let them grieve, let them—
Yet another young note
On the hard-baked stem.
Restrained do not

Cry
Nor bleed or melt a flushed blue
Pearly melodies of sky
Do no do, do not do

Ask of liberty—
Pretty, petty property.
What of birds?
Clumsy drip-dropping words

Only a breath weeps
Only bone shakes
All ballads, the blood keeps
Only the carcass wakes

And silent, silent goes
Into the blooming blue goes—

The heart is fond, so is the hand
That fed this fickle flesh of mine
That fell and bowed and loved and vowed
That lost and loved her shrine  

That self same shrine where once, I know
The Mirrors followed free
And all who prayed for rights divine
Were wronged as wronged can be

The promised land came to the dreams
And sang a song or two
But fled along when winter came
To a land where summer grew

The pilgrims, they through night and day
Still worship never ending
And like beggars fled when distance came
When death and life carme pending

For death and life the emperor fought
The promised land claimed he
And of steel and fire were his spurs  
His horses of the sea

“The earth’s ablaze!” I heard them cry
I heard their maddening shrieks
The hollow madness of their eyes
Fell down all to their cheeks

“Arise, arise” I heard them cry
The dignity dropped down
The emperor there stood shamefully
Amidst a smouldering town

For in these hands, the promised land
Was crushed and so was he
And with the horses and his pride
Sank down into the sea

And deep among the waves a song
Rose up for every soul
That was promised to the broken hearted
That was promised to us all

And brick by brick and stone by stone
The marble statues filled
The halls of gold, the hollow crown
Where once a king we killed

“Arise! Arise!” I heard them cry 

I saw their limbs like mould 

The glazing in each weary eye 

Of brightest emerald. 


Their temples stood rebuilt for good
The Mirrors followed free
The shrine was loved forevermore
And lost to that sad sea 


Well I limped on to beat and drum
Limped on like one forlorn
And I shall wake only to break
The silence of the morn

Through the land the myth’s own hand
There wrote its own account
The old man and the sea were found
Down by the promised land

Having laid myself to rest, I could not get myself to sleep, nor could I entrust my own mind to dreaming. 
Laying there, an empty head on a lifeless pillow, I saw the pale student of unhallowed arts kneeling besides the things he had constructed. Carefully picking up the remnants of a sanctified artwork, shattered about the room, he turned towards me. Piercing eyes in a frame drowned in nostalgia.
I saw the fallen poet battering his quill, tired of his incessant fight. The hideous phantasm of a man-made oracle. 
All fought, their arms tied to their devotion, their armour fastened to their solitude
And only I could keep them company

I shall arise and raise a glass
To writhing verse and broken prayer
And pass through minutes of neglect  
I hoped I’d find you there

The hazel wood is rich with fairies  
The Sirens move through dappled grass
Fervidly chased by child or lover
And I shall rise and watch them pass

Long were my days when the summer came
But the fishermen bade me beware
Dark as red wine was the sea that I sailed
I just prayed that I might find you there

For the ocean was dressed in its fancy
Of sea nymphs and monsters of glass
Often fought by hero and wizard
O I hoped that you might let them pass

Well, in all of this rumour and roaring
I had cast my soul to the sea
And passed through neglect and high fancy
And hoped that there you’d find me