The grand
illusion has begun.
This has
been your only warning,
All others
please pay at the door.
The wolf
has left the wool.
The sheep
have all been bloodied.
The halls
of the unclean.
Are no
longer un-kept and muddied.
A riddle
for the watcher.
For whom
the bell tolls, the bell tolls for you.
A day in
June around lord Saturn, but a day before at noon.
A place
where worlds are conquered and lost but found and lived.
A wondrous
journey is taken from any layered page you give.
Warming a
brew by chilling. Or chilling a frosty heat.
You'll
find energy and pastries but not a bit of meat.
Look for
him at mid-sun, after early and not before too late.
Come
around the chiming stand, there you must sit and wait.
It will be
the third this time, of Saturn’s weekly call.
When you
arrive, don't come late or early less in moods to fall.
We Are,
Watching, You.
or so the
apes say.
For you,
Whomever you are