Telemachus • The Havok Journal

“across this wasteland lie scattered the broken remains of the endless
mortal in their molding mettle
mortal in secreted silent glyphs
lunar shards glazing across their rounded faces
memories wearing still
hallowed names bitten into granites
there layeth my father
succumbed to the arms of time to fade
with the seasonal bluebells and mourning doves
rising from the depths an overcast silken isle of existence
sinking again to the sea
we reach past the scars and the operatories for the sunlight inside us
gazing into the void on the backpedal squinting for the light we knew
down our sunken spirals
through the libraries of the studies and persistencies of decay
out of the cave and into the blinding darkness born as lost
but we knew where our ships were sailing to
the iceberg came as no surprise
memory billow sails and sunpainted prisons lead the astray
it was never fate our choice.”