A twisted cord of silence danced a song;
A line of subtle joy and mirth. The strands
Of gold were wrought, all holding tales of lands
Now ancient and forgotten. Shining dawn
Would break, the string has told, and life was drawn
From wells of liquid breath. The rolling sands
Once flooded brilliantly, then held by hands
So skilled, to coloured glass was formed, then shone.
Then darkness came. It slipped in quietly
At first. It stared at endless lines of gold,
All turned upon themselves to form the sign
Of power, light, and peace. A living sea.
“An Alexandrian solution holds
The key,” then struck, then broke the golden line.

A reeling cry and day was split. A whine,
Then shriek, of twisted thrill unbounded. Cold
Began to spread o’er dying silence. Old
And aching, silence ended, breaking time.
A blast then struck the glass, so crystalline
And shining, raining coloured shards. Untold
lay pieces crushed and beat to dust. The bold
And blackened prince stood tall amidst the fine
Glass, coloured pins, which held, unknown, a dream
That held to darkness. Soon began to dance
A silver line of light. It reached along
To grasp the scattered seas of glass, formed seams
Across the darkness. Threads of silence glanced
Through crystal light, the pattern of the song.