The Empty Lilac Room

In this true story lies a hidden messiah

For the redemption of all inhabitants of a pretend city

One that lies on a land between my feet

Full of enemies of the empty lilac room

I know that it is your de-curtained and circular stage

That is swept clean with the one stalk of the pale lily

You who wear the embroided emblems

Of monarchies and states long extinct

Coats and arms and crests of houses long fallen

I am one to wrap my self in thoughts of you

To shovel away the layers of dust for information

To find the sordid photographs and feel the distant heartbeat

Nothing changes when you pine for ships of meat

Time becomes naught but a heading for a chapter

And you find yourself standing naked

Next to men from hundreds of years before

Naked men standing pretty

Brilliant men slowly disappearing

In an empty lilac room

With intelligence that is second only

To their urges and thoughts

Of the tapestries of masculine soup

That is sprayed with the brightest of colours

Like a stained glass window

In the chapel of the poet and the soldier

Is it arrogant of me?

To think that between my feet

Lies the land of enemies that urge the destruction

Of the chapel that houses so many colours?

And that I have the power to destroy it

By standing next to these men of history

Some dusty

Some invisible

All naked

Standing pretty in the empty lilac room