The Carnival Is Empty - Birch Book

Cross the lot, Wave a hand

Dust off the loaded caravan

In the settled haze of morningfall

Mark the way, hark the call

The tone is dry

The note is clear

The road is wide

The passage free

The Carnival is Empty

Lift a finger, lift a chin

Lift the corner of an eye

Floating falling into sight

Adrift, the paper butterfly

Without aim

Painted wings

Gather gust

Flutter free

The Carnival is Empty

Waking has no worry then

Dreams have no sleep

A cage’s edge has no name

Words have no speech

The thought is gone

The face serene

The brow is clear

The mind is free

The Carnival is Empty