Gone now the fragments greyAnd scattered on the sandNothing to crossYou can walk the water’s flowWending slow into the basinAnd find the last place whereWeather goes to dieIf I see you hove into viewI’ll know your resurrection’s comeIn tears rising to drown my feetIn darkening skyYou walk like a man burned blindGroping hands out to the sidesI’d guide you but this riverWill not waitRushing me to the swallowing seaBeneath fleeing birds of whiteDo not come here old friendIf you bring bad weather BRIDGE OF THE SUN FISHER KEL TATH He stood amidst the rotted remnants of ship timbers, tall yet hunched, and if not for his tattered clothes and long, wind-tugged hair, he could have been a statue, a thing of bleached marble, toppled from the Meckros city behind him to land miraculously upright on the colourless loess. For as long as Udinaas had been watching, the distant figure had not moved. A scrabble of pebbles announced the arrival of someone else coming up from the village, and a moment later Onrack T’emlava stepped up beside him.
