V
Though much is hidden, much is shown,
Foolproof, babes of Balin—empty throne.

Devil's cloven hoof and foal, now
Watch as it all goes crashing,

Watch as it all unfolds.  Golden
Sol, writ of old, 'As above—so below,'

'Or so I am told,' either way,
A lion's come home to teach them.

Neither famine or feast in reaching, this is
No country for the old.  The least of them

Meek and most of them seeking.  Weekends reap in
The mark of the beast—as you reap, so you sow.

Mother Mary rot in pieces, they know not what they know,
Arrow—Percival, The Fool.

Selig  

With a slight flick of the wrist,
Past or present tense—Cerberus,

And a man with three sticks.
Soaring above Art a mirrored Cupidon

Starts a whirring pheasant and slowly
Winds his horn, I lay it down—a ghost is born.

Dart among the deepest thrush, no-name, no-bluff, I AM ABIDING.
I have lost a lot, I have not lost heart, here we ride through dark.

Hell's hound did well to greet you,
Throw some earth into that mouth—insatiable hunger,

Raven's peck and claw at my shroud—no-sound,
One weary scowl to greet them, my heart cries out

Neither Fair nor Foul;
A cripple looks with eyes that linger and lies in every mouth,

Filthy fowl, a mockingbird's proud cowl left as a mark upon the road home,
Brazen, intricate conception.  I've shown and I'm Roland—Child, the Tower, no-less.