I have remained the faithful servant to the mother who has never opened her eyes
I have crawled along the floor: dark, cold, and badly infested
I have saught the brother who has never heard my name in his sacred corners
I have wondered the forest looking for life
Only to find what it is that I have so saught has always been here
Always been laid at my feet like the washed windows I’ve never looked through
Where I wandered told me this secret as I gazed upon its growth
The same growth that told me of death; subdued long ago to the circle of life
But abandoned on these streets that I now do roam
I have noticed here a presence I myself have never known
Perhaps in time I shall understand it’s precious stone that glares at me so
Cast deeply in the stone condemned to harbour such ghastly cultures
What shall remain, of the perfect letters that match the coloured walls
Only the servants shall know, and only in time shall they be known