Screeching owls can never tell the story,
paintings in some buried tomb;
we to know who merits glory?
another color on the loom.
Simon seems in need of answers,
text is not enough to sate,
his soul to flashy necromancers,
glib opinions carry weight.
thee well, my sister, choose your token,
jeopardy, it's such a thrill;
ignore the tablets - they're all broken,
fractured fairy tales of Jack and Jill.
there tomorrow ever after,
you've found the reason for your cries;
beside my throne and share my laughter,
listening to chronicles of lies.
yourself for things that will have meaning,
the world stops spinning through the sky;\
back in the pond and wait for evening,
up at the stars and watch them die.