Crying

In the ancient symbols of some Far Away
That enthral you to search through the mystery
And abandon the life in the doorway
For an unrelated, lost history
Can you ignore the semiconsciousness?
Surrounding your mind like so soft sweet mists
Is it our own sad irresponsiveness
That allows us the power to resist?
If it is the stagnate state we started
That leaves our accusing races crying
Then see, with love we send the departed
For they've lost the strength to continue trying
It is for this we weep with such despair
Lacking favor with Gods who never care.

Penned by my hand on the 2nd of Midsummer, in the year 117 MA.