Travelers

Everything was still, motion was a lie
It couldn't tell how every step was less than half what we'd traverse
Every grain of sand, set like a nail
And heavy as the air we couldn't feel in our salt lungs
IT CAN'T BE LONG we'd rasp, WE'RE GOING HOME
But home was anywhere just out of sight, buried in holes
So we filled steps that we had made
Moving without motion
Everything was still

When the low sun
Casts our forms in the shapes of old gods
Treasured dreams of the travelers could never last the aeons we adored
The night would come
It wouldn't be long

In our urgency, we ignored the laughs
Of our children who would reminisce about the years they'd spent
In our shade
This cooling shade
We never thought we'd take with us
In our urgency

And in the face, we couldn't face anti-climatic ends
We had paid the fountains for some other salvation
As we watched mountains erode
And the sea evaporate
Our voices cried out all at once
WHAT IS THIS CRUEL FATE

Then something moved
From within, we resonated
A violent end
A quiet tremble
A dying star hung above us

As the light burned out
And our forms shattered
We shut our tired eyes
And whimpered futile goodbyes

But, when we opened our eyes
We saw the stars shining brighter than our poets had described
In the absence of all sound
We found an amaranthine peace
Only glimpsed in fading dreams

When the low sun
Casts your forms in the shapes of old gods
Fading dreams of the travelers will guide you to the everlasting calm
The night will come
It can't be long
Everything is still
Memories of the travelers will come to guide the lost into the one
The night will come
It can't be long