Dust of Dreams

When your penance is done

Come find me

When all the judges cloaked in stone

Have faced away

Seek the rill beneath the bowers and strings

Of fine pearls

Down in the fold of sacred hills

Among the elms

Where animals and birds find shelter

Come find me

I am nestled in grasses never trod

By heartbroken

Knights and brothers of kings

Not a single root torn

In the bard’s trembling grief

Seek out what is freely given

Come find me

In the wake of winter’s dark flight

And take what you will

Of these blossoms

My colours lie in wait for you

And none other

Come find me, Fisher