Pillar of Old Things

Shall I become a pillar of old things
Which young men stand upon to be made strong?
For I gain nothing and I earn nothing
But to falter in this last sacrifice.

In this battle there is no aid, no friend.
Who should assist fights of self-destruction?
Freedom becomes the fiend of liberty
And slavery the vice to snare our joys.

If then the open skies bear fearsome clouds
If then homely comforts are bitter chains
What shall remain to know joy and purpose?
Burning suns only pass to poison rains.

Tis like a knot, kneading out in my mind.
Beyond my skull, agonizing like fire
Terrorizing like ice, it wrestles me
Would I change what I’ve never changed before?

Wherefore does the keeper keep me silent?
The woven rhythms of my fates collide
Powers of each darkness hunger softly
The terrible faults of this wicked calm

All to unknowing, come to unknowing
Spread through each muscle, each vein, and each thought.
And castles fall, silent in the distance
Bringing to greatness: all it brings to naught.