Path

A book closes and a feather falls,
  this time on a sword unsheathed.
The storm gathers and the phoenix reborn,
  the time to do battle is nigh.

The number is four, the symbol a circle,
  six demons lie broken on the path to the tower.
The woman in black, the stars in the sky,
  follow them to points of knowing returns.

Lightning flashes and thunder peals,
  the fields of time echo what once was.
The sea below churns, the clouds above roil
  a beach of dreams under a sky so blue,
  and where the two meet, I shall wait.

Of the Black and of the White,
  the Wanderer speaks yet again with the Knight.
The gnome works on steam and steel,
  taking to the skies in dreams yet undreamt.

Ankh and knot, gossamer and flames,
  the mind's eye sees what is not, yet could be.
Space from time, time from space,
  the path lies not forward but to return.

The abyss watches and the candle flickers,
  the means is the end, unto itself.
Let the battle be joined, the quest begun:
  for the path must be walked,
  and I must walk it.