These tales of old disguisings, are they not
Strange myths of souls they found themselves among
Unwanted folk that spoke of a hostile tongue
Some soul from all the rest who'd not forgotten
The star-span acres of a vacant lot
Where boundless amid the clouds his course he swung,
Or hunker with his elder brothers sung
Of old long since forgotten masters?

Old singers half-forgot all of their tunes,
Old painters color-blind come back once more,
Old poets skill-less in the wind-heart tomes,
Old wizards lacking in their wonder.

All they that with strange sadness in their eyes
Ponder in silence over earth's lies once told?