When the great gone speak
Who dare not tremble
Although it be a dusty voice?
To settle upon the stage
And no foot tread the board
To creak the memories settled
Upon the page and in the air
He is beaten and forlorn
Hand supporting broken chin
As Dharma pigeons coo
Some mantra from the rafters
Imaginings crumble to sand
To settle upon his bold brow
If it were a whisper he heard it!
The fluttering of gentility
Through the lazy prism cracked
Window pain of heart and tooth
Her tender wings become a cloak
And he is Prometheus bound
To a tradition of distinction
He can never fully revoke.
Here amongst the dead grass
Last to arrive she kneels
What thought brought her here
To kneel in eerie solitude
And no kiss to warm her sight
No lips tremble and render light
ThoughtS of time, a timeless night
