Portrait of the Knight of Wands

He stood upon the last
Bastions of the place
Looked out on the ruins
With thunder in his face
An introverted spectacle
In the flowers on the rocks
The daises on the ramparts blowing free
His heart was divided
Clouds gathered in the sky
The belfry made of wood and steel
Was silenced in its cry
Something must have happened
But what, he wouldn’t say
Shown within the wider lens of history
His mission
The transmission
Of technology
One cannon trained upon the church
This one caught his eye
To keep the bishop in his place
He muttered with a sigh
His mood was melancholy
His attitude severe
His inner burdens weighed upon him mightily
A bird as never seen in books
Flew in overhead
A kind of dove it might have been
But not a sound was said
All the ancient knowledge lay
In pieces on the ground
The cause of all his suffering was not for love of me
His mission
The transmission
Of technology