October 05, 2004
Firmed within, the Master's lockCasted shells upon the heart
He branched no further distance won
Shadows roll the tender part
Bended iron and rust crept steel
Designed of art and meant to heal
He would not be silenced;
Stretched the Tyro, firm yet slow
Stranded for the softened hours
Wanton pages written low
Curved, like vines, the thorny crown
Huddled whispers of the town
Forged without the seeded clock
Buried deep and hurried none
A mile surged like minstrel's play
The further distance won
Baited through the time in seed
Tempered weight wrapped in need
And I will not be silenced;
Awakened days so plush with prose
Passed of anguished hours
Coddled thoughts and apple groves
Stunned with grace and verdant fields
Felled the lock of rusted wheels
Who will hear; will he hear?
Unbarring dams the river's flow
Where I sit
I do not know
But silence not, will ever be
The Master's locked or Tyro's speed...