i sit within the bower of my thoughts, watching
phosphorescent flitterings that cannot be caught
by merely mortal hands; but it is in thought
that i approach the mystery with the key i have brought.
were i to turn my eyes a moment, for aught,
I would see and afterwards see naught.
the ephemeral wonder of deepest nature
is revealed in secrets to those mature.
all men seek the knowledge of quickness
that would allay their fears and cure their sickness.
so, it is as i depart from my embowered seat
that i hear a distant thunderous beat.
sounds that drift to me from afar signal something
perhaps good, I do not know. i hear someone sing
above the beat then stand still, frozen
as i suddenly see an image brazen --
an idol of dreams, of archetypal nightmares
serving a warning to he who'd tread forth: beware!
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