Graven

A glance shaken from stone He hoards the dawn Withered carcass washed by a turning flame His roar is leaf smoke through this mesh of air The wind a howling horn That scalds his frightened lichen beard None care to dream what hands could field this folded frame So deep beyond the kenning of the day So deep beyond the kenning of the day So deep beyond the kenning of the day But muted wood retains his borrowed song Gripped in its green-soaked brow As if the long ages had not loosened the link A scent of rain on fur Claws gashing at the grey ghosts Of a loveless glare Deep So deep So deep beyond the kenning of the day So deep So deep beyond the kenning of the day What then was meant is dying To what human folly sees A lion like a lamb Amongst the trees What then was meant is dying To what human folly sees A lion like a lamb Amongst the trees Deep So deep So deep beyond the kenning of the day What then was meant is dying To what human folly sees A lion like a lamb Amongst the trees