Two Cities

There are two cities somewhere on Earth:
The old, and the very old.
And I can hear how whisper both,
When sunrise paints their buildings rose,
Their gates are open, but roads closed,
Unless you go to scaffolds. 

A river cuts through the heart of first,
And carries its waters deep,
And once, on its banks I again yet stood,
And listened to waves, and understood
That I have done whatever I could,
But I’m a forsaken ship. 

The second city has heart of stone,
And tired is she of all,
And I can try for forever hide,
Yet stone’s a magnet, to which I’m tied,
By curse or blessing, burning inside,
And swinging, a bell that tolls. 

There are two cities on Earth somewhere.
Who knows and who decides,
What shapes us being of this and that,
Who weaves the ropes and cuts the threads,
What keeps us alive and leaves us for dead,
In distant light of the skies? 

There are two cities, two watchful eyes,
One old and one very old,
One’s always dry and another cries,
And I’m their relic, their fire and ice,
A ship, a bell, ever spinning dice,
Abandoned, then sent to roll.  

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