They came
The few, the tired ones,
Drifting down from space
searching for they knew not what
knowing naught
of grace.
Millennia
The Searchers sought.
To Earthport now they quested
quietly, against all hope
abandoned ones
they tested.
That sad and ruined home again
of faiths, beliefs, and pain
where chosen ones and sinners lay
midst offerings of blood
and grain.
Seeking
for the simple eye
to make the body bright
finding that the dark within
concealed them from
the light.
"The Dark, we are!"
they cried with fear
"To no-one can we pray!"
And so in Monstrous Caravans
they wheel their
bitter way.
"Is there no hope
for us the lost?
our energies are spent.
We've wrestled with philosophies
that drain or are
ill-meant."
They wander on
their earthly course
still seeking for a sign
not realizing they themselves
are darkness: fell,
malign.
Copyright © 2003 by Jerry Wright