The clockwork bird takes flight

O’er half the world, the dreamer flies
Above middle towns and country places
Liquid grace, never too close to the sun
But through once-sullen clouds, suddenly parted
Drawing electrical storms into his veins

Perhaps an angel, not for man to say
Never too lofty, no need for axe nor saw
Unobtrusive in the unknown
On top of the world, defying the empty stage
Leaving vapour trails of memories made

Beneath, under the piercing stars
The caravan of time stands still
Even as the rhythms of a million drums
Drive it on, with force on flow
A train to somewhere, away from here.

The misfits below, for a moment
Forgo their witch hunts, their polarised games
Complete societies entertained
Even as above, across a path that’s clear
Held aloft, his fire a perfect sphere

But then he is gone, suddenly to some.
His glory seems over before it was even begun
He proved immortal only for a limited time
Leaving only shadows on the road behind
Each merely a player in this, macrocosmic game

Now lost in darkness, disbelief suspended
The strangers to each other stick it out
Dreams still in their heads, of that friendly voice
Counterparts to once-bright images flashing by
For the bell tolls for all, on this alien shore
Leaving but a smile, in the end.