Age-old, footsore, weary He treads the same timeless path Frozen as it is into meaningless stones Which tell him nothing of sultry skies and silver stars. Echoes of happenings yet to be
City of spires, you were always there In the distance, chiming, singing, rhyming Echoes of earlier times. From the first time I set foot On hallowed paths worn by time As a wide-eyed child
Seething with rage in the twilight hours Hearing your name in snowfall I drink in the darkness to fortify, Signify Your awakening five thousand miles away