I stand on the borderline, for the first time
Before me I see, veiled, the vastness of ages.
I see clouds gather, drawn by the cycle of man.
The clouds loom dark and the village is confused.
They perceived, barely, the fading light
and the village
is confused.
Their Promethean boon offers waning help
and the village
is confused.
They have driven away those who understand
and the village
is confused.
The storm impends and they are confused by it.
Thus is the past.
I see a final few lift their eyes and leave.
They come to join us, welcome among the mountain peaks.
The clouds bellow a final warning to those below;
Lightning and thunder, the harbingers of the tempest.
Some see the signs, and plead with their fellows.
They see the danger but are ill-prepared to act.
Some see the signs, and react in blind instinct.
They bring their own end early, for better or
worse.
Some see the sings, and take no action.
Not wise enough to act, nor wise enough to to
know they cannot.
Most do not see, plodding blindly to their fate.
They never knew existence, and won't notice the
end.
Thus is the present.
I see it come to pass; the storm descends.
All things turn on all other; there is collapse.
Those things embraced as one are annihilated by one another,
Consumed by the height of passion.
Progeny and progenitor slay each other
To spare the other the sight of their own demise.
Siblings engage in mortal contest
For fear their brethren die at a stranger's cold
hand.
Enemies lay down arms in turn and welcome ultimation,
That legacies of strife end and there may be terminal
peace.
As the storm recedes, a child steps from the rubble.
As the shadows of the village fade, new foundations rise.
In the end is the
beginning
We watch, as we did before, and will again.
Thus is the future.