« FIT VISION OF THIS DARK SIDE »

It's the silversmith's daughter

carries messages from the gods

and an offering to no god at all.

Shadow and aquiline mien given thanks for,

ash, bread in salty saddlebag,

circumstance and notice of exodus to come.

Robust deservings

like autumnal tatters

over your upright ignorance.

It's the silversmith's daughter, her spans of sweet spices,

her essential fragrant jewels for sunken continents,

for damsel with metal udder and long rusty hair.

She will be in the night

what the sunflower is

in forts of the free.

There will be memory of kingdoms and inheritance

primogenital.

Causeway with living tongues will take for itself

symbols and annunciations. It's the silversmith's daughter.

Oh! Fit vision of this dark side.