B
Bhryn Astairre
Guest
A simple leaf of aged paper, tea stained in hue and with words of pale brown lettering stuck on it: as if plucked from the hands of time itself and laid to rest for time immemorial on the tree.
Gods and Angels will come and go:
Demons and Devils as winds blow.
Neither will suffer the wrath of time
For in eternity be their find:
What jealous rage controls their sight?
Of mortal means and mortal light.
Fascination with what must pass
Into the night and never last.
Their candle lives may burn out
And into ashes all about
Or scatter light across the world
As if by force unseen, hurled.
They watch them go on their ways
And live out lives with such short days:
They who time just skips on by
Will never understand just why
They crave to see the mortal wound:
The breaking hearts, the laughing sound,
The hearty cheer or silence loud:
The dying beauty or severity proud.
What sets them up in distance great
From races that do not consumate
The touch of time, the hands of fate,
That begs them age not, bades them wait...
Without devils or angels close
The Gods trust and therefore devote
Their teachings to such candle life
With all their freedom, all their strife.
They cannot know nor do they see
That what makes mortals, made them three:
Heaven, Hell and Material Plane
All the Dark and Light domain:
And in the balance will they learn
That to be mortal is what they yearn.
To live and pass: in short to Be.
Something immortals will never see.
~ Bhryn
Gods and Angels will come and go:
Demons and Devils as winds blow.
Neither will suffer the wrath of time
For in eternity be their find:
What jealous rage controls their sight?
Of mortal means and mortal light.
Fascination with what must pass
Into the night and never last.
Their candle lives may burn out
And into ashes all about
Or scatter light across the world
As if by force unseen, hurled.
They watch them go on their ways
And live out lives with such short days:
They who time just skips on by
Will never understand just why
They crave to see the mortal wound:
The breaking hearts, the laughing sound,
The hearty cheer or silence loud:
The dying beauty or severity proud.
What sets them up in distance great
From races that do not consumate
The touch of time, the hands of fate,
That begs them age not, bades them wait...
Without devils or angels close
The Gods trust and therefore devote
Their teachings to such candle life
With all their freedom, all their strife.
They cannot know nor do they see
That what makes mortals, made them three:
Heaven, Hell and Material Plane
All the Dark and Light domain:
And in the balance will they learn
That to be mortal is what they yearn.
To live and pass: in short to Be.
Something immortals will never see.
~ Bhryn