The knot in the wood


There he sits, lonely, he’s lonely and still
He sits, yes alone and quite still.
He takes a long black knife 
And begins to carve.

Yet one more statue of wood
One more, cold and dry wood
Is lined up neat and straight
Perfect in every way.

He will shape and manipulate
And shave, and manipulate
But a slip, a Knot in the Wood
She’s held right out in contempt.

Now they stare and they point
And they mock and they point
What is this? This unwanted thing?
And he has gained their hate.

Yet they move on from his sight
And more move into his sight.
But the one, he shifts to the side
And did watch them go.

There he sits, lonely, he’s lonely and still
He sits, yes alone and quite still.
He takes a long black knife 
And begins to carve.

So alone, the one he forgets
Alone, unwanted he mopes.
Forgets his ambitions and pride
Then takes the final plunge.

There he sits, lonely, he’s lonely and still
He sits, yes alone and quite still.
He takes a long black knife 
And begins to carve.