Let the silver blossom fade from its cracked pedestal
And fall to countless crystal shards,
The alabaster elephants so wrinkled wander
Through the dreamless bleak mayhem,
And the chained eagle cry as she glides over the burning viridian sun,
To stay in realms greater than this doomed dominion.
And let our holy blood flow through the stone walled roads
Down to the parched river where our mighty nectar mingles
With leaping, haunted currents
Who cajole and jest,
And wonder what we have done to earn our unrest.
It is time to raise our brittle hands
And lift ourselves from these wrathful sands
And turn our vast domed heads to all who
Dare to look upon our secret shame
And forget to speak our holiest of names.
From the shadows so few shall cross
To the sunlight that burns through our crimson skies,
It is time to raise our flashing eyes
And to unseal pallid, golden lips
To sing of our undying glory
While we meander silent through ancient chasms, ah --
To revel in this world of hollow stone.
But now we are alone.
(EMW - 04.21.06)
