London is the sermon
That no one will hear,
Time folds in on itself
Under the force of its own speed.
Remember the fall after your summer of love
And invincible life.
It was the hallowed streets of this town
That convoyed you through
Its every social shindig,
Every shimmering soiree.
It was the legendary landmarks
Of this glittering metropolis
That welcomed you at every corner
Of every street.
It was this city of flashing gold
That cut the cracks in your teeth,
That lit the tracks of your feet
Out of the shadowed town of your birth.
There you were,
After twenty moribund years of inertia,
You burst into life,
The air heavy with magic spores.
You were fallow no more,
Sallow no more.
Flanked by family and friends convivial,
The past was immaterial.
Your part was finally congenial
To your place.
You were misdisplaced,
Death undone and unblighted
All those people that abused you,
All those words that bruised you
Were no more.
This town didn’t care
For the ghosts of your derelict past.
It nestled you in its steel wings,
Asphalt beak and concrete claw
And gave you the wings
With which to flee.
You were wax and feather graced,
Aquiline and proud faced,
You were free.