| 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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| � 2003 Kyle Altis. All rights reserved. |