The stars that guard the traveller
Are drowned by flooding lights.
The songs of birds cannot be heard
And all our wrongs won’t make it right.
The thief sits atop the throne,
The fool upon the pulpit,
An innocent is buried and forgot
And the laurel rests upon the culprit.
I will not follow a flag to war
And kill the crimeless to make all well.
Until the Promise is come
I ride boldly in no ranks
But walk where others run
To chase fortune and Hell.
Or else I sit where others stroll,
And where they sit I hope to lie.
And where pilgrims carry their greetings
Is where I hope to die.
Or else in some far flung corner of the world
Where stars shine clear and strong
I would hope to lie and wait
If there I do belong.
Featured on the Court of Lions.