1000 empty chairs assembled here by unknown gods to wait for the inevitable
sunrise despite the clouds, if I were but the dead leaves beneath their feet
to steal a peek at eternity where all have marched before me and
cannot come back again for no glory of the past can make
any difference now, we are beyond redemption
my little crowd of rebels who reveled through
the dark night until the dawn and know
the way home has been lost beneath
the sands of time but listen to the
silence and in that find solace
quietly shut the endless
stream of words in
the background
of your every
quiet your mind
ready yourself to hear
the sound of one hand clapping
of Oden napping, of the launching of
a bark too big for any ocean we know of
and there you’ll find me on His slopes, the snow
fields in His dreams threatening to awake and I lay
down my white gloves upon the grave of an ancestor
I once admired whose songs and laughter transported me
to other times and places long forgotten in the heat of battle

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