What gates can you open with your Cheshire smile
O father of the five gods? What chains break
at the touch of your hand? What spirits wake
in the whisper of your silver-gold hair? While
others cry for war, you call for peace,
insist on honor, walk a righteous path—
creep into the heart of the daughter of the rath
and give the son who would release
the fruitful earth from time’s cruel play
though counting time is your gift, the pull of tides,
the light on the wake of that midnight sea you ride
relentless as time itself. Night is your day.
In night’s desert, your smile cuts like a knife,
But you rest at dawn to dream another life.