A poem inspired by The Muse of Cold Earth.
Keeper of The Name
Dear child
Change will come, will or unwilling
Quick or low tide
But you were sharpened for a singular purpose, like all great tools
A lion, quiet in his pride, dispatched for the cause of, unending Injustice
In the sand you waited
In the sand you walked
One set of plodding footprints behind you
And these are the places where he carried you
And these are the places where you carried his cross
Across the desert
And to the garden where you should have seen your own dreams, reflected in the unbroken surface of the water
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