Warded
Warded
Warders stand outside of time,
Implacable as granite at the watch.
Eons unmarked pass their notice,
Such is not their care.
There are Things
Traversing the wide places between reason and
Truth.
Eaters, disruptors, malefactors,
They are the purveyors of Nothing,
And would consume themselves at the End.
Belching null in their wake,
They are anti,
No more than that,
Yet that is more than they wish to be,
For that is still being,
And they would have none.
But they will not admit the Great Paradox,
Believing instead that once all is consumed,
And nothing is left to name the Void,
That then it will cease to be.
Still, they may not even consume themselves
And leave nothing,
For something has done that consumption,
This is their base dissatisfaction,
And they persist,
Knowing their failure is of themselves only.
And so, the warders stand outside of time,
Never allowing the raveners near places of life,
(Though some life
Seems bent on destroying itself),
Visionaries, idealists, seers, mystics,
Defenders of basic truth through the ages,
They leave the consumers between intention and
Inaction,
To catch what flotsam they can,
And leaving us to make our own sorrows,
And yet still live.
Cliff Lake 9/29/2024
Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024
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