Poetry for the Unforgiven/Stories from a Translucent Sky

I was moving out on the cosmic plane.
When the elders met my eyes,
of the orbicular conduit.
Soldiers were marching inward to,
battle the incomprehensible.
The gift was something, knowledge,
could not touch it
Stories were told of forgotten time,
when hordes traversed the cosmos;
in search of tangible reality.
The sovereign sat idly by,
while fools sought invalidity.
The hordes expedited unearthly terrain;
they left a Face Monument;
to mark their passing.
We were left with riddles,
to fathom the m...