Loupe - Benoît Pioulard

Wish me luck like I wish it meant anything at all

More layers, more prayers, a visitor in resonance

Sunlessly woven repose and recall

A wind shakes the flags of our loyalty and provenance

I roam the past in pursuit of my best mind

Through bends in the trail and dislodging gravel

Oh love is always above, beside and behind

A current for sails on distances traveled

A young century, a sense of posterity

Fair weather ventures and ancient identity

Compromised relevance, steadfast in enmity

Bartering any elegance for inevitable anonymity

Some down the line may take four hands to undo

And if mine are two I hope yours are two, too

Blissedly lie within a false field of view

Ceaseless and weak as the bonds of our glue