Stand on the battlements, reign from the towers,

Draw on the heroics of romanticized ages

Climb on the walls like the stubborn blue flowers

Sing on the stairs, echo footsteps from pages

 

Woven stories breathe like delicate tapestries

And in that sigh we kneel in humble awe

Surrounded by known and unknown mysteries

And not unchanged we finally withdraw

 

Imagine the past more easily than the future,

For artifacts are the best time machine.

And from times unwritten significantly fewer,

Relegated to the artist, writer, all who dream

 

Caught in the moment, most delightfully caught,

Give me the woods, the fields, the open sky,

Rid myself of my every tangled thought,

And fill my lungs and heart with new stimuli

 

Open fields perfect and unchanged, I presume

Sunlight pure as the standing golden grain

And with greedy eyes I ever consume

Replacing within me my hurt and pain