I must have missed that latest incarnation, gathering change and counting stars. The news was slow and the hours turned. I lost track somehow and you slipped on by, a ballon caught in a headstrong wind. Without the icon shining at me, I tend to lose the way. Without the words to say it, the path was rid of me.
Shamed angels and hit lists, the telling seems too strange. The turntable killing the mix with clumsy cuts. I cannot track the reasons to pursue your enemies, I cannot follow your cruel and grasping rules. We meet only upon the roadside. I cannot trust you to get too close. The warmth of my fire, a share of my meal. The oldest law my counsel while you bray and burn.
I lose my track and must blaze away. The woven branch and toothy briar just another road. I walk without quarrel with your spells and oaths and supplicants. I pass with only the casual enmity such passage might require. All my myths and accidents will find my measure, stepping over every stranger's shadow. Keep your chains and keep your threats. I know I can find the light.