Seemingly a party quests in the Greens
For adventure and riches, but justice and peace, too
And when whom might happen through
Mercs who ride for home and health
Melieuing about with horses around
While above town in High castle there's dancing
A masquerade ball with masks and all prancing get-down
And a music sweet mechanical thing full of harpsichord
At the inn the adventurers sweep and wash for nights fare
The mercs kick back and converse having ridden in.
And innkeeper at bar listens quietly as hearth keeps warm,
Pulling draughts from warm pig barrels on wall with flat beer
Keeping the mud and hard roads of worlds outside the wall,
While townsfolk around town close shutters as sunset draws down
Wherefore do the soldiers' hearts wander?
What are adventurer's eager for?
Who does innkeeper acclaim?
Glory? Justice? Peace? All these things...
Having committed soul to distressing tasks...
Having nibbled horror...
Wherefore do children play?
What are families eager for?
Who does mayor acclaim?
Faith? Hope? Charity? All these things...
Having committed souls to Lords...
Having nibbled ambrosia...
Wherefore do musicians sit?
What are dances eager for?
Whom does the king acclaim?
Respect? Power? Money? All these things...
Having committed soul to water and land...
Having nibbled innocence...
The greenswathed graveyard grows hoary with moss
A skeleton seeking lost life grips fresh earth crawling out
The Raven watches around, the Rat seeks another shiny thing
As silver light casts around from moon past Cathedral
A solemn thing with pooled time, while streets passing...
Channel this into shoots and eddying pools of flowing crowds
On busier days and nights through trees and shops to sides
With lantern lit by-ways and alleys of timber-framed and cob-filled spaces.
This is space, but is also time, interchangeably.
Sources feed and are filled, shoots still... Pools stream...
Like the creek that washes clean with each rainfall.
This is time, this is space, both fast and slow... And sometimes paused...
And sometimes lost to history.
Flowing to free, and freeing to flow:
This thing called life in Time and Space and Eternity.
For adventure and riches, but justice and peace, too
And when whom might happen through
Mercs who ride for home and health
Melieuing about with horses around
While above town in High castle there's dancing
A masquerade ball with masks and all prancing get-down
And a music sweet mechanical thing full of harpsichord
At the inn the adventurers sweep and wash for nights fare
The mercs kick back and converse having ridden in.
And innkeeper at bar listens quietly as hearth keeps warm,
Pulling draughts from warm pig barrels on wall with flat beer
Keeping the mud and hard roads of worlds outside the wall,
While townsfolk around town close shutters as sunset draws down
Wherefore do the soldiers' hearts wander?
What are adventurer's eager for?
Who does innkeeper acclaim?
Glory? Justice? Peace? All these things...
Having committed soul to distressing tasks...
Having nibbled horror...
Wherefore do children play?
What are families eager for?
Who does mayor acclaim?
Faith? Hope? Charity? All these things...
Having committed souls to Lords...
Having nibbled ambrosia...
Wherefore do musicians sit?
What are dances eager for?
Whom does the king acclaim?
Respect? Power? Money? All these things...
Having committed soul to water and land...
Having nibbled innocence...
The greenswathed graveyard grows hoary with moss
A skeleton seeking lost life grips fresh earth crawling out
The Raven watches around, the Rat seeks another shiny thing
As silver light casts around from moon past Cathedral
A solemn thing with pooled time, while streets passing...
Channel this into shoots and eddying pools of flowing crowds
On busier days and nights through trees and shops to sides
With lantern lit by-ways and alleys of timber-framed and cob-filled spaces.
This is space, but is also time, interchangeably.
Sources feed and are filled, shoots still... Pools stream...
Like the creek that washes clean with each rainfall.
This is time, this is space, both fast and slow... And sometimes paused...
And sometimes lost to history.
Flowing to free, and freeing to flow:
This thing called life in Time and Space and Eternity.
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