Disturbance of the aether mayst spell doom
In the temple hall where breed thick and viscous
Smokes and mingled blood of a century
And more besides, priests with hassled robes,
Vestments of sordid rituals held as example.
Questions go unheard, ideally, at best, lest
The Watchers hear what a hierarchy wishes for
None to speak of, voicers of dissent stormed
Upon for beliefs, singular ideas surprisingly shared
Amongst a populace afraid to opinions voice.
In the smoky halls where dusty throngs gather,
Of silken robes and wizened faces, hidden lives
Lived inside of coverings, there arrives another,
Ruiner was their secret moniker, known by malice
Maleficent with inside eyes long darkened.
For those processes necessary to life
We are held enslaved, confined in time
Like puppets consigned to fates inexorable,
Inevitable, their nature illimitable, unchanging
Apart from the dire and disastrous, drowning
In our own excesses to be free from breathing,
Processing all that which keeps us alive,
Free to be bound in chemical chains; survive.
In tribulations of misunderstood times lie drying
The intentions of sorry souls, confused for meaning
Inferred though not always felt, a split across
Bridges held either side, the middle swaying
At the behest of a wind howling wild and free
Through the sere planks, whistling as either side
Stand strong, gazes meeting in the middle; flash.
To a summer’s dusky eve do I compare thee,
Warm and smouldering spirit, curious licks
Ticking from the quieting flames as fall
The day’s exertions to night time flicker patterns;
Waxen petals adorn thee well, and succulent
Thrives the nature in knowing thee.
Not all rewards are worth their risks
To be taken so blithely, nor the cost
Within one’s self only to discover, lost
Already is that resource of heart
Governing our choices, what we put
In harm’s possible way to achieve
Our lives and goals appealing.
Take chances, my child, for destiny does
Not visit one’s home, although perhaps
Rarely indeed…and your risks ran thus
Shall your character into life define, shape
Like the statues of stone we raise from
The earth to herald what is precious, home.
Time’s Arrow flies on without warning, sorrow
Or censure, uncaring creature of temporal nature
Attached to spatial framework crawling wildly
Amongst and betwixt the space hung matrices
Of a universe designed or ruled by chaos.