The Overseer – Part One

In this twilight hour

I am listening to the chimes of time,

Ringing out the ascension of all faiths.

As a contemplation of each minute

Brings us closer to home.

A quietening presence

Tames my senses

And I am no longer at peace,

Neither at mercy to my will.

The reaching of the hour-hand

Takes on a new tone

As gradually I regain cognition,

And a memory of silence.

Hundreds, perhaps thousands of years

Pass, as a teardrop touches the air

Crystallising in a final manifestation

Of peace, transcending heart,

Transcending body,

And all that has been familiar.

Clever times are these,

That we provide no future

For the dying or the ill at ease.

And in our obeisance we betray

No moments of past obsessions.

Possessing only the character

Of indifference that we have

So keenly taken to our hearts.

As a peace loving union

That calls itself humanity

In the name of something

Much grander, and of which

We have no true understanding.

Standing here as I will,

I beckon forth the light

Of reckoning, the salvation

Of the ages, and the beings

That have peopled my lives.

And in a moment of opportunity

I say ‘Ay, release me,

And let me be’.

But the hushed tides

No longer whisper this name,

And in this hour I am no

Longer whole, as I have known.

May my footsteps still carry

This warmth, and my breath

Leave scars on the skin

Of identity.

Fulfilling only my deepest wish

I remain still;

And the song of the stars

Is deafening.

Comprehension alone will not

Alter this state, nor will it

Change the aptitude of your

Comprehension,

Save for the

Acts of violence that brought

Us closer together.

Rivers, tides, oceans laugh

And I am free.

Free to share my own laughter;

And thinking of man is

Thus relieved.

Who brought me here?

Who named me ‘saviour’?

Who taught me to blame?

Who entrenched me in sufferring

In order to remember peace?

Who left me here without

Warning, or explanation?

Should I give answer to myself?

How shall I, when love

Is not for me to own?

Heave my soul from here,

Let me be free if that is your will.

Let me shine as I wish to shine.

Tell me how it should be!

Rain in my heart, rain

And let me be cleansed.

Give answer!

This is as it is and I am no martyr.

No handy prop to your mischievous ways.

Reveal yourself in me.

Hold out your hand and

Let me kiss your fingers

That know my very face

With such loving familiarity.

Home, home; yet I am here

And is this not home?

Am I not welcome?

Is this not what I seek?

The rain falls and I am not cleansed.

Instead I am washed away

With the torrent of

Laughter pouring forth from

The skies, and I see clearly

Perhaps for the first time

The trickery of your hand,

Like slivers of glass reflecting

My indignance. My inability

To make heard my questioning.

The precipice looms closer,

And again I am thrown in

Without warning, nor time

To conjecture my opinion.

Crashing down into the

Depths, I falter not a whisper.

Yet there is time for me to

Anger and cry, and kick and

Scream, and renew my faith

In you one more time.

I have no faith in this!

I have no faith in pain.

Darkness prevails, and this

You tell me is home.