Among the boughs that break upon the week
God is not dead nor doth he sleep
What I hear is what I’ve seen
For I have heard it said that dead gods dream
Time’s carriage hurtles along the ground
Seasons run in a forever merry-go-round
Across the whirligig of tempestuous time
Breathe the words of forever ancient rhymes
Whither go those creatures strange as whim?
Whence doth flee the Blickershin?
I stand among the fallen leaves
Lone among my peers– for only I will believe!
Somewhere, names found in occultish lists
A lone maiden beckons through the timeless mists
And now I cross that silent foggy sea
Because we are that which dead gods dream.