Brave Ilion Afire

A golden bough broke in my hand

And I traveled beneath brilliant lands

Towards the river of Lethe,

Towards Charon’s creaking boat,

And was led to the misty ports

Of the ill fated dead.

My goal was to reconstruct your tabernacle:

Shining with bronze cuirass

And jeweled shields,

Swords glinting in torchlight

While mad maidens burned

Alongside molten towers.

Brave Ilion afire, so I could speak to you

Next to swirling winds

Where souls meet in a vortex.

You said to forget the tabernacle

And brought me close to your chest,

Where I cried.

I knew now the taste of iron lay before me

So with lantern I returned

To the shore above me

And spoke to the billowing wind.

I forgot ruins

But not the ghosts of the dead,

And with crew I sailed

Towards the multicolored structure

Of my glistering future.