Heonan

I sing a song of sinking ships
In a soft sleeping sea...

They came bearing torches

In small wooden rescue boats

Or were they not

We could not see past the fog

Distant yet the stench of burning wool and rotten fish

Still reached our noses

The Humdrum were coming to save us

And we stood still

With our manuscripts soaked under the ocean

Fine manusripts were they, love-driven manuscripts

Now they lay drenched

Fresh ink drifting apart from paper and unto the waves of the sea

For where could we go hence,

And how to escape?

Some say a tired ocean pulls everything apart,

Others say it's finally all coming together

Yet, the ink once forming words -our words

Got carried away towards our sinking ships

Transfixed stood we

As it reached the keel

Yet, the words once forming sentences -our sentences

Were stuck in throat

And flying shily towards mind

Yet, the sentences once expressing thoughts -our thoughts

Were lucid no more

And the Humdrum approached

How could we possibly escape them?

They whisper "Oh! Apotheosis. Oh holy bulb of light"
We learn that it is shadow, not just darkness

That gives form to night

They reached us

Amidst the Humdrum stood we

And then they saved us, and then we fell

Never to see each other nor ourselves again

The ink stamped the hulls

Once speaking of love

Once product of creativity, man's sole true virtue

Now imbued putrid wood

And were we still of this world

We could finally understand

How creativity transforms through the aeons

Our children will only learn from the Humdrum

For they are the Survivors

And we are the eternal Disappearers

Our legacy, a hazy reflection of light on the surface of the sea

Enough change to keep us satisfied

Enough to change the face of tide.

That glow from the sunken ships below is ink reformed

A patrimony by those who cared

And when no one remembers where these

Ships were built

Or knows whether they found home,

It is your time.

When the light is no more,

It is your time.

Aye, the glow formed words

Unearthly, unspoken language

Uttered, it would sound something like this:

If our mothers have taught as anything

It is that there is no shame in a fading light

But instead, a pale worldly beauty

So be tired, good children

Be tired, but be strong, in a word: persevere

For the dimmer the light, the longer it shines when we are gone

Let them glare
And mind your ray...

*The highlighted verses are taken from various lyrics of the album "Blessed Are The Bonds" by The Pax Cecilia