The Rememberings

Pondering a certain past.
How it haunts and too harass.

Alone and walking on a void.
In solitude, in mind deployed.

The spirit wouldn’t let him rest.
So, he distills of its express.

Burdened by his fatal flaw.
He quit believing in the law.

“Those pillars of society,
Have hollowed out so quietly.

Are notions of stability,
Beyond our ability?

Law of lands, made by men,
Who disobey. So, what then?

Law applied to . . . only some.
What then shall . . . we become?

A land governed . . . by a culture,
With pillars faithful . . . as a vulture.

Swayed in flight by a breeze,
To prey on those in disease.”

The sprinkled stars, the slice of moon.
Communing with a living rune.

Becoming wise, becoming sad.
These truths are neither – good nor bad.

“The fall from grace was not a myth.
It’s who we are, it’s what we’re with.

The world that we left behind.
And what’s to come is undefined.

Despite these flaws we’ll find the way,
That it would go anyway.”

His pondering is incomplete.
Conclusions dangle at his feet.

He walks in peace but not elate.
Accepting of an unknown fate.

With faith in the darkened sky.
And days to follow night’s thereby.