Conscium

Thrown into the wind to create.
Held under the dirt for seven days.
Nothing is hastened,
all things are done.
O, evening to morning!
«Then come to me in bright defile,
where judgement day is not a thing
that can be delayed for overlong.» *
Silence at Dawn.
Everything in its place.
Slow moving tides reflect cinnabar skies.
The Earth is beautiful and one day
I shall die.
I’ll step into forever,
where the edge is gone.
The Earth unseeded —
The sun sets upon nowhere.
Beauty as emptiness?
Oh, what will I do with such
beauty as emptiness?
And now in light, and in knowledge of this…
what must I do?
what must be done?
Millions of embers have gone out
behind my back.
Four hundred billion more
stare at me from the dull horizon.
Where do I stand?
What claim to make?
So I will let the scales fall
from my eyes —
for here in this light I am speechless!
Who am I to speak of morality?