Ancestors Of Smoke

Has there ever been trust between those on the precipice
Who steady themselves on the fortune of others?
All of them secretly yearning to tempt instability
And neglect
Or abandon
The foothold beneath them

Staring ever
Into that chasm
Drawing nearer
That beckoning closure

Every head will hang
Erring and doubtful
With a clawing remorse
Burrowing achingly toward the dim heart
Of our guilt

We're responsible for the world we belong to
All pity withheld
We are answerable for the dusk we have walked through
And our quiet contempt; hardly permissible

Do not let their darkness become yours
Conceive in your heart dissolution
Its weight will diminish
Your shining eyes piercing the absolute black lain before you
Those shadows will howl desperation