The barbarian and the snakecharmer

              "Tonight, you grow fire
In your home; the hearth is warmer than
It was day before, and the heat is some
What hotter."

Tell me, o bearer of the bard's timeless
Residues, the starkness of what remains,
Endures. Tell me too, o quills that ink
The shores of pain, of destitute growth
And gain.

               "Tomorrow's morrow is now past."

The temple grounded, the sword sheathed, the
Fill of land is for the maker's glory, and
Fuel for the till.

               "Cull your seamstress vows,
Pulverize the atoms of your being, the order
Of light is now of silent gratitude."

The worms of time look about and confer with
The muse of the forest, the news of night;
The loose ground will shift in preparation.

               "Did I mention the glories and
Speak of the stains?"

No matter now, the glory, the stain, the dim
Flames from the hearth are programmed to keep
Your fellowship warm.