Words a plenty when the colors fall
and the cards are down.
We’ve been at this table
for far too long.
The Fool has his fortune
and his fake-awake friends.
But the stars are calling down.
The old imagined
can’t serve us now.
Call in your hands.
Send the actors home.
The play is over.
We have open realities.
We are bound to roam.
Stitchteller's Keep 