For you I’ll

[busker]

For you I shall write of Theos 
again. For you, the dusty centuries
of Omberry’s men, with sword and pen 
will unclog the clogged up venturis
of myth and song, denizens among,
citizens of an unnamed galaxy - 
the worms on Sigma Dratea
where intelligent life is paltry,
the sirens of Silvessia,
the orangoutans of Alterie.

Once more you’ll hear 
of Wothland Wye, master of the tetra 
meter, born to rhyme
through geological time