My mountain has been falling down,
Leaving holes the size of crowns.
I look to learn the makers name,
But eyes, unblinking, stare through the rain.
Could this new path design the way,
A thousand years been left unpaved.
I cry with every brick to fall,
Towards my future, the Grand Ball.
In my distance I feel no pain,
I shudder lost on through the rain
Amidst clear guidelines and diplomats;
Hidden secrets swept under mat.
Up and up and up my gaze
Fights through the foggy haze,
For as my mountain falls apart
Answers dart from end to start.
Clearly, says I, to my maker, my God,
What has become, why is there blood?
Why are my knees no longer strong?
What force has left my music gone?