Old friends restoring parts of me
Holding the glowing stones of memory
Who I was, who I could be
Bringing kindling to gently warm me
Cups full of my blood, to pour to my lips
And let my heart pump boldly again
Remembering how I used to be
In those fangled days of innocence
Beneath the clinging ivy of nature
Leaving the lonely path home
To a place the dark cannot reach
Nor trickle through the ring of love
Hovering like a bright sphere around me
Fighters against the grey machine
Brandishing banners of truth and light
Forged of the same ideas as me
Seers of the forces know the great enemy
Words in the book of an anguished life
Turned by eager young hands on cold nights
As multi-coloured lights dance on the ceiling
Remembering the old games we used to play
And knew so well, laughing
At some obscure node of consciousness
Only we share, and so prize the more dearly
Egoless sharing and little care for money
Or the roof and walls called property
Like mice in a nest climbing over each other
Old friends, carry my shield and sword
Squires in a saga, greying my brow
Heeding what little wisdom I speak
Admiring the things I built, and forgot
Mirrors framed in gold, gem-encrusted
Beautiful things of the earth
Who will hold my left hand when I lie
Upon my final place, to smile and then die.
