The master strides through his curious realm,
Every step matching eons,
Every gaze spanning lifetimes,
All lined up on his shelf.
A collector, an inspector, a transgressor of what’s right,
The master strides –
Past dreams of Byzantine war widows,
Ancient vows displayed in gold
And an endless array of magnificent creatures
In cages, full to the brim
With things unseen and things untold.
He would place diamonds along a road
Of blood and tears like trinkets dropped,
Have roses grow in fear-drenched soil
To pluck them, dry them, wrap them up
In silver foil.
Put them on display
For only ever himself to see
For now, like always,