Cross the lot, Wave a hand
Dust off the loaded caravan
In the settled haze of morningfall

Mark the way, hark the call
The tone is dry
The note is clear

The road is wide
The passage free
The Carnival is Empty


Lift a finger, lift a chin
Lift the corner of an eye

Floating falling into sight
Adrift, the paper butterfly


Without aim
Painted wings
Gather gust

Flutter free
The Carnival is Empty


Waking has no worry then
Dreams have no sleep
A cage's edge has no name

Words have no speech
The thought is gone
The face serene

The brow is clear
The mind is free
The Carnival is Empty