Glaciers
I was born son to glaciers of
ice,
Brother to the west wind,
Singing a song of memory and
change.
And as I walk the halls of
snow, the rooms of steel,
I hold fast to the shadows
that cloak the ruin,
And never chase the silence
from the daylight,
And shake the floor of the
world
In my lonely tantrums.
I am made the merchant of
emptiness,
My currency the dew at the
night’s edge.
Given dominion over the empty
spaces
And taught that to rule is
always sweet,
no matter the kingdom,
I haunt the concrete canyons.
In dreams I chase the
inviting glow,
The glittering crowds and
shimmering clouds
That tease the promise of
redemption
And bring the pain of waking
a dreamer with empty hands.
I am the wanderer of frigid
spaces,
Drawn to seek dawn in distant
skies, worn robes hanging,
Never, never standing before
Heaven,
Singing of flowers and thorns even through my tears,
King of the outer wilds,
East of the sun where the
dreams fall dark.
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