If dizzy feeling stops
him short before his time…
If loss of conscious feeling spreads
from shoulder down through hands…
If heart it’s rhythm allegro beats
and shadow vision blurs…

On Ivydale unfurl
your royal flag again.

Unknown the measure needed,
forlorn the quickness passing.

He marches double time uphill
unwilling steps to slow or cease.
His hands he rubs and breathes upon,
a mind in flux and constant drift.
A sight so keenly sought for, light
and silent, stillness rested peace.