A Yarn

Press my fingers to the glass,
In the museum, we're told not to touch,
Eras past and epochs lost encased, entombed,
Monument to the ages, memory of time,
The irony in the fact it still exists today,
Makes me giggle, as I grow grey.

Wind will wear me thin,
Rain will spoil my clothes,
As I walk that road unnamed,
As I wade from black waters,
I wander from place to place,
Learning a name from face to face,
Living in a series of locked patterns,
Day to night, autumn to summer,
Green to gold, rust to dust,
Twined in the one-eyed's loom.

Father of none, not husband nor man,
Blank page in history's text,
Title passed from tongue to tongue,
Borne to light the furthest reach,
Of the deepest cavern, reddest rock,
Forgotten, forsaken, forgone,
Built and eroded, one to none,
All to all, this is how we fall, fall,
Wrinkle your nose against the smell,
Close your eyes, wish it away,
The monster is with you under the covers,
The devil tucked you in, kissed your hands,
Lost children of the universe's son,
Welcome to this land of missing parts.