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For Edna, and John, and All




   Only fitting to leave for this

   Time the kingdom drowned; 

   To let the bearers sleep near

   The burden, while the quiet amnion

   Repatterns the steel for another

   Forging, in some unnoticed cataclysm

   Of the depths. Bared to the fire, the

   Rock will grow around it once more,

   The wait begin. Splinter-roofed,

   The keep is tattered and open to

   A sky that still seems blind, yet sees;

   The caretaker makes ever slower rounds

   And asks the ravens yet more

   Querulously for news of whom

   Among them stolidly endures;

   They only nod toward the cave,

   The firefly-dimness in the farthest corner.

   It is just a single candle,

   But it will last the night. 
 
 

- David W. Mitchell
 

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