Like God’s own garden after Adam’s fall;
These once-were trees, turned lifeless stone in time,
Cast shadows on us down from trunks too tall
For us to equal, heights too high to climb
Once more. When these dark things were elevated,
The wisest ancients in the race’s prime
Foresaw their empire’s end, as all are fated.
Theirs was a second Sodom, full of pride
For all the pale wonders there created,
And in the flood of fire mortified.
We think not on man contracted with,
The evil underneath he thought to hide.
Of that crime below, the monolith
That at in the center stands, just like the Tree,
Reminds our people we will find no frith:
“There is a danger here… you cannot see…
It is the death of men… break here no ground…
There is no good thing here… leave this place be.”
Black spikes at broken angles circle round
Those sacred words we tell to those who come,
We brothers to this desert cloister bound.
We teach these letters as a warning from
The ones who came before, we cherubim
Who keep this paradise, lest man succumb
To his temptations, one more subtle scheme
To make Creation in his image own.
But even we, the watchers, dare to dream
Of a morrow when our order unknown,
And here with living things is overgrown.