by Tenebris

Created on: June 30, 2008

The New Atlantis

Poet reborn, rhymer eternal,
Tell me:
Speak of the count of time, of generations
Fled, and surged, relentless as the sea
Salt tide feasting on Troy's lost gallantry.
Where now the halls, the boughs of laurel?
Another dream, another vision
Guides them now, gold derision of a too
Quiet voice speaking into the wind,
Holy feaster of Keridwen's brew
Speaking mysteries known only to a few
Secret keepers of the libation.
This must not be allowed! bind
Their truths with charts, their tongues with a thong,
Let their songs echo the new-risen prows
Of the immortal towers, navigate the long
And proud histories: dare speak no wrong!
Yet the storm waits, the devouring wind
Abides its time, the stinging snows
Have caved in the most determined bank;
Tame harbour ships in shallow waters fell
Only those on the tossed sea were safe; a plank
Or two dipped beneath the waves, but none sank
Under the harsh prophecies of the storm crow.
And then I saw a new earth, and a new Saul
The herald on his trumpet blew
Winds of change, a storm of nations
Rips apart the tapestry, history hangs askew
Only the stars still witness, and they too
Will fall.

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