A Retelling
A
Retelling
“Look, but do not touch!” they are told.
And so, they watch,
Not impotent,
But commanded.
A battle fought long ago,
Hard won.
Dimensions shattered, inverted,
Or made void.
A lone globe sequestered,
It’s life now part and parcel
To the cold clockwork,
Penance for daring to exist.
Graceless now, the defeated grumble,
And foment.
The Despoiler,
Anguished of a future
He will not escape,
Makes ruin his home and yield,
If he cannot forge,
Then he will fire.
His minions ache at their loss,
Boon and beneficence
They thought to take alone,
Now a memory that can only pain,
For they once knew beauty boundless,
An infinitude of symmetry and delight,
That now scrapes at their spirit,
As they count down the days and the hours,
To their utter invalidation.
These do the bidding of the Unchaste,
Their abnegation never complete,
It is a torture to exist,
But they fear not being at all.
Thus, they spoil all,
Rather, encourage the life they cannot touch,
To be the agents of their own ravage.
Still, there are the loyal assembly,
Watching in growing anguish,
The desecration of the great work,
At the hands of the beings,
For whom it had been made.
No irony this,
Just sad defilement.
“Look, but do not touch!” they are told.
And so, they watch,
Not impotent,
But commanded.
The reckoning will be glorious.
Cliff Lake 7/27/2023
Copyright © Clifford Lake 2023
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