The World Ender

I scarce recall

My dawning age

A bequeathment to exist

I was vacant then

And happy

Though the cost: a fatal risk

I was nothing

I was perfect

I was death on daemon’s door

Revered by forlorn many

For it was life’s unrest I’d scorn

I walked the stars for pity

And woe I would be found

To fall from cosmos mighty

And to trudge upon the ground

But kindness sought a solemn heart

A knife to cut and wear

All the hate and apathy

That I glimpsed but failed to care

And now the sands might clutch my knees

For this desert’s cold and bare

I’ll trudge to distant, blackened seas;

I won’t find the World Ender there.