The serpent
Coils upon coils
A thousand thousand fathoms
Coils upon coils

Scales shroud the earth
And the facets cabochon eyes
Become as the sun
The firmament becomes a
Writing tapestry

It welcomes the procession
Of the penitent
They seek favor, compelled
By orgiastic terror

In echopraxic convolsions
Hollow prostrations
To outdistance doom
To stave off an ending

Coils curl on coils
Writhing as if
Towering roots
Surging from the earth
From the skies

And all your anthroposophy is as dust
Neither memory nor ghost remains

Have your steps brought you home, brother?
Have you seen again

The silent tomb of our father
The divine shade of our mother

Have you heard her whispered pad
Under the rotting beams
Of once elegant archways

Gardens reclaimed by earth
And stone subsumed by vine

The fields of men who lie
In stupor, taking succor
From ashes
Unaware they have wasted
To mere impressions

Crumbling mosaics and the
Silent banners
Of long-faded triumphs

Lacrimae mundi
The world has grown old
And its tears no longer deluge
In youthful torrents

But crawl in procession
Stately and resigned
As the glory is gone
It fled while we watched
With crossed arms

Proud and haughty, stares upon our features

And you and I, brother, will never be gods.

Time breeds challenge
Change what little remains
Breed outside of time
Brood of temporal outcasts