Oil of Thieves

He came to me in the dead of night

And lured me out of my gown

We cut across paddocks, streets and tracks

Rode the trains all over town


They gathered in numbers on the silent beat

The spray of coloured mist met with frowns

Like lightning each they left the scene

Parted ways and regained underground


A den of thieves stealing the night

Stealing freedoms and rights and spaces

Hovering round seedy back-street doors

Wiping smiles off people’s faces


The smashing and tinkling and gasps of delight

Footsteps pounded then far away faded

Under dim street light in some nowhere place

The spoils were greedily traded


It was all up for grabs, no one was spared

Even those who met heavens bright gate

Would get there much lighter and in brilliant haste

Without the wares of the world to take


But one of them bolted and cringed with shame

Not a single word or a known name

Between them were strangers on a silent beat

Kept together only by the pace of their feet


If only, if only, a secret to share

Of life anointed to save them, to spare

Just a few of those grounded by their fits of despair

Turn those vacant eyes to an upward stare


No earthly remedy could be bought or sold

This secret brings generously, sevenfold

The silent beat would forever be told

As the work of the Master’s mould



The Legend of the Four Thieves

Photograph by Jim Furrer: Street Lamp Arc

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