Frankish Visions V: Ancestral

How doth the the elk remember the right path

To take, when it has been obscured by the shuffling of shadows

And the reign of air?

Towards the shelter, hollow scraped by ancient glaciers there

How doth the dove know which abbey to return to

When the bones have spaketh their need for perch?

Or the festidious hare

Towards the cloister of her burrow, for the ground doth retains it’s warmth

It is the same for the salmon

Who return in finality, to their original shore

Though the current is strong, it has not erased the scent bare

That which harkens, instinctual, an unshakable lore

Ouais, but the sun erases, changes many faces

And the moon hath reset, after the tidal of useless phrases

Passed o’er, to where I can no longer remember the creases on my palms

Lost in the boredom, and I struggle to remember my favorite songs

And yet,

Distraction is weak, when the infinitismal shakes

And the will of lingering, finally wakes

The phases are nothing, for the hearth breathes my name

And I cannot be taken, for I am the hearth’s claim

Set.