When I drew a red card and saw the black and white beard smiling from my hand
I never could have seen the day I threw that card away
I never saw a brand, just a hand, so it was easier to speak than say
As I said I saw, I knew a better spot to be in, better drawing with a pencil
so penned and hemmed and paper made
with water drawn from purest to me, filter tree green gladed source
I found through tears a moping year, ho-humming inward breaths
I missed a fan of former places
where friends of foes of falling bawling hopes rewarded
Where folded lain in silent satin whose parents are afraid
they've nothing known but rituals thrown
results for sadness from lack of progress from harms unwanted
where speaking shone and hope cast line with thrones
precious gold weight anchor rings at sea
and sat in front of sheltered domes to see what kings and children see
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