Through a touted mage it sings in praise and bleats in troubled glory

Then rips deep into the song of sight

Keep quite and still or you will not hear, the longing of it’s rising plight

An unspoken thought with a yearning to

Seek out and touch, a Gathered Few

Who but such can feel with sorrow?

Dance in the gloom of

Forever’s lost morrows

Fraught with but one slice of gleaning mist

All once again fallen into, the graces of, the Gathered Few

Through distance, space and time it ravels

Mooring to the loss of yesterday’s visions

Humming and droning a connection of untouchable sight

Reaching out, and flowing through, known only to the Gathered Few

It screams, it strangles, a raging maelstrom

Hearts chained tight, making each tortured breath a damaged plight, so very strong, with so much might, but even though it knows no flight, its driven relentlessly back to the light, given in sorrow, but earned by right, to bear the blue, the Gathered Few

As it sways onward to no one, gathering ethereal force, but plundering nowhere

Tipping the scale, blowing hot with steamy vigor, ramming it back and sending it to

Back where it knew, both the old and the new, the Gathered Few

They, who silently suffer in the stillness of right, while all along they embrace the dark and feed the light,

They fight the fight, for all good right, we must bow our heads to, they who are always true,

 The gathered few of always!

Linda Scheihing