The Way of Pain

It tightens the straps
Bored and irreverent
For those still waiting
Still sheltered in hollows
The cry of future shock

Tension and ferver
Jaw clenched
A word for the inevitable
Unmoved, unshaken
A hundred arrows
All piercing, spent
All known and unrewarded

Still it moves
Still waits, breathing heavier now
Plotting, sighing over
Deterred by hopeful want
Not in the least
Heard all spoken
Seen all
The world within
the shattered globe
Illusory prescience

Unmerciful for self
No room left
The heavy-handed
No path, no way
Clenches fists
Tired and shaken
Pendulous
Montrous in movement
Flailing, dulled and compacted
to cold hardness

Stops at nothing now
Tears flesh
Rends hearts
Is as what made it
Weep not for him
He that ruins, himself ruined
Become ruination
So much the nearer
To truest nature