Lament
We walk scattered amongst the blind, tiny beacons of dark.
Our will and resolve guiding us so,
Come all you weak and twisted, and learn from our
truths so stark.
We have seen the nature of man and his devices, we have felt
the melancholy of his conformities.
We have glimpsed the face of the shapeless foundations, we
have seen the blackened froth of the defiled seas.
And for this brief moment of clear sight,
We have felt the exquisite resonance of our minds free from
blight.
And as the nameless writhe in the embers and the holy preach
their naiveté, our words are brushed aside with scorn and discord.
Those whose words leave us in the dark, shall be shunned and
deemed heretic, they say.
Those who claim that we are less than exclusive, the chosen
avatars to guide the animals, the fair and fortunate, shall be thrown aside as
pessimists and aimless vagabonds, they say.
Those who deny our place in the silver city, our mortality
and amorality accepted, shall be burned at the cross for their sacrilegious
lies, they say.
These deluded have their power and we do not.
And our last laugh shall be a bitter one.
