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The clock of the four winds is a tall-case grandfather style clock originally assembled in 1710 by an Italian astronomer and mathematician named Ricco Foscari, a direct patrilineal descendant of famed explorer, vintner and occultist, Cosimo Foscari. The magical properties of the clock were such that when its hands were moved and positioned in certain configurations, it would trigger remote viewing events which would be projected onto the glass panel cover. The clock was also rumored to serve as a sort of “beacon” used for summoning an other-dimensional being named “Desdinova” who acted as a sort of intermediary between detached yet interconnected causal timelines.

LYRICS:

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The chariots lie broken exhausted from war

The wheels rolled off in the mud

In the morning all good things are good

The sun warms up the mud

Stillness is raptured in all its arising

The seeds grow up from the mud

In the morning the dawn weighs a feather

The insects hatch from the mud

The hunger for sunlight draws flies to the surface

The babies wake up in the mud

In the morning from green murky waters

To wiggle around in the mud

Bones growing hollow, the gills turn to lungs

Gasping for breath in the mud

The fins turn to legs the scales turn to vellum

As feathers shake loose from the mud

Fly high, all you flying high birds

While the warm western winds are beneath you

Oh you soaring high birds

The sky coming down to greet you

We’re all dying to meet you

The bird, the great swooping bird

Beak open, gobbling gold

Oh you soaring high bird

The north winds are growing cold

Feathers flush with colors bold

Now pretend you are the sun

Feathers flush with colors bold…

Now pretend you are the sun

The southern winds, the washboard clouds

Diving daringly during the day

Teetering upon the tip of the tree

The seasons will have their way

Tail feathers turning to gray

Scatter little birds, oh you tiny little birds

The easterly light is encroaching

Seeds spilled upon the ground

With the end of the autumn approaching

And the seasons must have their way…

Now pretend you are the sun

And the seasons must have their way…

Now pretend you are the sun

And the seasons must have their way…

Rider’s final horse has ridden

Puzzle finished, last piece hidden

Oysters chatter on evening tide:

“I’m Desdinova and I confide,

I am the one you warned me of

I am the leak and the long lost love

And I am the one who will never lie

Deathless, I may never die

By lizard lens and crystal rope

You know me by my telescope”

Scattering stars in hand she shouts:

“The play is what it’s all about

Behind the clock with arms stretched tall

The script is on the western wall

Behold the light that never warms

You’ve been warned, I am the storm”

So raise up your chalice and toast to the moon

And sing to the stars as they flicker and loom

O! Irony! O! Tragedy!

Aching knees don’t fail me now

We slayed the vile dragon who lived in the skies

We bathed in its blood and we pickled its eyes

O! Devilry! O! Revelry!

If my friends could see me now

O! Bravery! Camaraderie!

The last lotus eaters recline in the sun

The race to return has been finally run

Finality! Causality!

Swept away on swaggering swans