eschaton

i.

light like the christ
strikes the atmosphere

a darling blind
sent to end the years

a clasp of thunder
and a mass so mere

with all eyes impressed
and all deafened ears


ii.

crescent like discretion
of the here and not

a stellar fate
chosen with a cloth

the sash asunder
and the passion wrought

make new the questions
and the answers sought


iii.

cursing like the hearse
flung to those not ready

an earthy tone
cautiously abetting

the grasp of lips
masked in dashing redding

uprooting bands
of alloys unsteady


iv.

he likes to track stars
across the void

and watch them blossom
and then destroy