I was already there.
It seemed as though forever now.
The cool wind running up the Seine.
The harvest time has come.
Along the quai – stalls of bounty.
From London I had come afore.
There too along the Thames I walked.
Jesters and their like, top hats still.
The fog only lifted.
But time did drift on by.
In Paris it stood still, like in Madrid before.
The time would not move on, alone.
But there as here I knew that not forever more.
My wings would come to me.
And throw open to the street below, for all to see.
A hand, my own, upon a blade will rest.
Push toward the sky and let them hear.
Then whip me wet and let me grasp.
Oh, have I missed it, so long I’ve dreamt I fear.
From reverie to blinding day, and then
Reality took on a softer hue.
My hunger and my eyes awoke full when
I saw a gliding scepter and I knew you to be true.
