to restore the glory of the world
to prophecy that beauty
shall debut again
is beyond me.
Let me announce the quiet
turning of spring to summer.
Let me stand as herald
to the place where cold water
comes up from the earth laughing.
I will be the louder voice,
the longer hymn,
of the already present song.
I will take up the full-hearted pen
the ream of paper
and act as historian and mapmaker
inscribing worlds as they were and are
but ask not of me the future.
Do not question me for truth
in it's deeper patterns.
I may tell you how it appears
but not how truth be
that too is beyond me
to track it in it's essence
and not merely it's effect.
Let me stand as herald and announce the world
but leave the judgement to a better Lord.
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