Eternity

I have walked the storm-shod mountain,
My feet in the rumbling grey.
I have bathed my bosom in the fountain
That held a sea of nil within her spray.

My shade traversed the terrain
Of shattered light and bliss’s perfumed lore;
Flowered lore—such balm to pain
That bleeds the pleasant days of yore.

My specter knew the Kings of Longing,
Watched as they dreamed on satellite thrones,
While below doom shined with the dawning
On a desert of drying bones.

I listened at the doorways
Of true love’s chamber dear.
But also where soft decays
All dreams to nameless fear.

I watched patiently the streams
That flow where untold future’s roll,
To the land each deity deems
Is the true seat of the soul.

I was shown the way
To the horizon of New Man,
To the hues that spawned their first day
Beyond night’s diamond caravan.

Did you ever see
One as old as I?
One for whom eternity
Is naught more than a sigh?

Yet I must state tragically
That my tale cannot be long,
For alas even immortality
Is but a passing song.

Will I be there when on all
A thunder roars and lightning clash,
When the stars themselves commence to fall
And the raging Titans clash?

Then I with the light shall sleep,
My tale built by the same passing sands
That, like all, I cannot keep
Within my loving hands.