Poem-a-Day, Entry 343--

Unknown Song of the Awakening, #3.

First we spoke of angels,

       though their wings were steel,

   their boots tramped heartless

         along the deserts out here--

   we spoke of lights in the sky,

      the wide lightening

                 filled the night,

     and our songs were culled

           from these.

         We spoke of waters

              on the far edge of the world,

    endless in their grandeur,

          that were not still,

    riding on vast currents

           through the endless beyond--

    and in our ignorance,

        we praised our masters,

             we praised our slavers,

                 we praised our Gods...

    We do these things no longer,

          for now we speak of nothing,

      save the songs we lost.