Cruelty or Punishment

The vulture whose claws have become iron,  
He circles the flock, (undeserving),  
And those who are frightened are nervous and counting...  
All, while the weak ones are pushed forward,  
questioning their place and abuse,  
As those, now, accusing,  
stand in their judgment, as those they've alleged wear their burdens,
(not as penance--but as a way to make
the fate that they live all too obvious, for saving by savior or saint)

[Foreign; this feeling, has felled me...  
By failing the faithless --and faceless]  
( we stand, nearly drowning... )  

As the river washes over us….

The deluge; the surging tides…  
Swallowing our shorelines...

[In hysterics; the panicked are pushed back...  
Told that this isn't cruelty, but punishment,  
Don't die without understanding, and knowing, what the
Difference is. Speak so they listen, listen to learn...  
Pass on the wisdom of  beasts  
Those that have come, before...  
And those will inherit, once more.]  

We’ll wish, still safeguarding the fleeting sparks
of this Light and Life... As we discern and follow
our ancestral and astrologic guides; most, of which, were
left long before they were ever even able to be read,

Or were understood to be any significance,

(The body of Light, to which, Time has fettered itself.  
Is, now, larger than, both our Self, ourselves and those consciousnesses able to accept the abstract, intricacies that are incoherent and  
defy explanation…

Always, absent the words,  
you might as well have never trusted;
Never spoke those thoughts into either foci or form...

So…What ruin wrought this rot?
What travesties misshaped this land that Time forgot?  
Here there is no evolution, only grief;  
warring on the feeble--lording all that's weak...
We move to weather the onslaughts of Time,
which cannot be stilled. Hardened by this chaos; it's in the fire that we are steeled.

So blind...

But we are tossed-- so young but we are judged on the merits of those who have come before...  

Were you overlooked, forgotten or exiled...  
Did you bury your memories in the exodus,  
Or have you had those syllabic formulations purged from your Records...

Your History, and Lore; only to have it, then, made into an emptiness--shattering--and then, shared by every read-, heard- or gestured-Language experienced beneath our lilac, sparkling---and, often, cloudless--sky.)  

As a victim to Time and to circumstance we always leave a scar,  
When parting with the un-pilfered, and unspoiled, vistas,  
Forever abandoning the sacred, and profound realizations,  
As you wander away from the horizons trapped on the edges of our memories--or memories: once-forgot... As well as,  
the in days, already spoken for.  

[Until the decay outruns our resonance...  
And all our echoes fade.  
May we always gift wholly unto thee...  
All positively...  
As we hand all worry away and cast anxiety beyond our
grasp of recollection.] 

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