Next morning, the valley was covered with swans
white for purity
gifts of the spirit

we had been searching the city with lamps
rooting out complacency

we found the dregs of wine
in dusty cellars
and people told us
nothing would happen
either good or bad

there was a blurring of boundaries
and the keys to the kingdom
had been laid aside
the gates unguarded

no-one expected the swans
not even the priests and princes

purity destroys crooked paths
gifts burn the fingers of the idle