Beyond the crossroads of all times
You will not always find a mortal,
Save where the tribal tongues align
To write the age\'s riddles portal…
And where the midnight hours beat
Into the minor lines so slowly,
The truth’s pure magic, like a sheet,
A thoughtful chord, so deep and lowly,
Will whisper once again through years,
Through parallels and sheer absurdity,
There where the wall of silence clears,
And rhythm rules with perfect certainty,
It drops the ghost of ancient peaks
Into the space of rhymes and pages,
And through the broken springs it speaks,
Reminding of the pure, true ages…
And once again the seal of keys
Will be torn off without resisting,
To find the sense in deepest seas
Of rhythmic motions, non-desisting..