The Sentinels

They sent for us in the dead of night
And the Emissary beckoned and bowed
In her flowing crimson cape alight
With all the flames and fires we vowed
Would burn throughout the vexing space
Until time marched on us grave and solemn
And called us through the resting place
Where the Sentinels, in forming a column
In black resplendent infinite robes
Commandeered our souls for a nebula’s heart
Where our future selves sent vessels and probes
To discover that all this beauty had no start
Just so, in balance, it has no finish
And the morphing Sentinels were but waves
In love the cosmos would not diminish
To hold for eternity each soul it saves.

Copyright Kosmogonic 2018

Image Corvinereum

8 thoughts on “The Sentinels

    • That comment is very poetic in itself. Born to become a poet, perhaps. Male in gender and spirit, but entirely in thrall to the supreme aspect of the female in all domains of art, nature and metaphysics. I am not so sure about the circle.


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