Portrait of the Knight of Wands - Suzanne Vega

He stood upon the last

Bastions of the place

Looked out on the ruins

With thunder in his face

An introverted spectacle

In the flowers on the rocks

The daises on the ramparts blowing free

His heart was divided

Clouds gathered in the sky

The belfry made of wood and steel

Was silenced in its cry

Something must have happened

But what, he wouldn’t say

Shown within the wider lens of history

His mission

The transmission

Of technology

One cannon trained upon the church

This one caught his eye

To keep the bishop in his place

He muttered with a sigh

His mood was melancholy

His attitude severe

His inner burdens weighed upon him mightily

A bird as never seen in books

Flew in overhead

A kind of dove it might have been

But not a sound was said

All the ancient knowledge lay

In pieces on the ground

The cause of all his suffering was not for love of me

His mission

The transmission

Of technology