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