GOD SAVE ME

Through a tale of forget-me-nots When age sought out life And the last timeline stood revealed

And I will pray with you, asleep beneath a baptism of fireflies, our eyes drawn toward that soft dark hue Neither you nor I were thinking, Our shoes skipped toward the river’s edge, as though to make certain our childhood hearts still belonged there

In Shambhala, Each King prepares to leave They realigned the darkened papers Returning each of their selves to order

From the depth a darkened Earth rises a scarlet murmur, the revivification of the Blue Bird

The Fable-Teller is here Her low voice calms me with its quiet grandeur. She gathers up my childhood dreams, those satin-syllabled ones, and sends them upward, to that far-off land, like grains of sand scattered to the wind.