Four roads crossing in the red dirt. Lantern oil running low before the rooster calls. Watch the shadow. Left the brass coins beside the ancient tree. Hold the ground. I met the night watchman standing by the iron gate, Counting sixteen cowries for a man who came too late. The neon sign from the tavern flickers across the ditch, Telling every traveler which road will make him rich. Cast the stones! Count the signs! Talking drums are speaking to the corners of the sky, Asking every passerby the reason for the lie. A coat of heavy linen stained with palm-oil and sweat, Paying down the balances on an ancestral debt! Pay the toll! Take-the-black-thread-tie-it-tight-around-the-wrist, Never-let-the-bargain-slip-away-into-the-mist! Strike! Before the smoke clears from the riverbed... Riverbed! I WILL SET THE ALTAR STONE AND HONOR WHAT WAS SAID! CLEAR THE PATH! THE NIGHT DON'T FORGET THE BLOOD UPON THE WOODEN SILL! NEVER FORGET! CARRYING THE LANTERN WHEN THE ENTIRE TOWN IS STILL! WE CAST THE WHITE CHALK ON THE CROSSROADS FLOOR, LOOKING FOR THE ANSWER BY THE CARVED FRONT DOOR! STAND FIRM! Carved front door... Seal the pact! The palm wine is drying in the shallow wooden cup, Waiting for the morning fog to slowly lift back up. Found a rusted machete buried near the boundary line, Marked with thirty notches from a forgotten design. Clink! Footprints in the dust leading straight into the trees, No sound in the canopy except a heavy breeze. ...they walked through. Step light. Did the omen shift? No. The roots run deeper than the city pipes. Keep your eyes on the road. ...hold fast. Break the seal! Pour the oil! WAKE THE GROUND! THE NIGHT DON'T FORGET THE BLOOD UPON THE WOODEN SILL! CARRYING THE LANTERN WHEN THE ENTIRE TOWN IS STILL! HOLD THE LIGHT! WE CAST THE WHITE CHALK ON THE CROSSROADS FLOOR, LOOKING FOR THE ANSWER BY THE CARVED FRONT DOOR! Front door, front door! Done! The debt is paid.
