We are the bastions of transience,
Emerged, in matter,
From ever-shifting latency,
From whence we shall return
As the churn turns epochs over
Like stones in a furious river.

And how we forget our own divinity,
As I do not forget yours,
Perfect and flawed
Like all golden facsimiles
Of homage to the light
From unthinkable pasts,
Recessed in gargantuan history.

We are the provenance of time’s
Only intent,
The rolling waves
In all directions
In all dimensions
Which wash us both
And wash us all
Along in streams of truth,
Too awestruck to see past
Our instincts
And out and up and down
To eternity’s race.

Copyright Kosmogonic 2018

7 thoughts on “Bastions

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