Offscourings

Outcast, waste men
Ever unravelling twine
Splitting as vines, those tendrils that reach...
Brought at end before the all-crafter
Its likeness yet a wordless thought
A final quandary...

What malice sent us on cruel currents
To be eremite among the stars?
And our far-fathers, like us in stance
Yet entombed in depths of dirt?

"Many are beneath you, many more ascend
Not in error, each an eyeblink in our everbeing"
"You have innerseeing of the fore, yet not the after
Accepting your ordained and steadfast deterioration
Yet darkened the site of unmaking."

Ever stabbing at nihil
Lithe and piercing our shape
Opposite that the molder's
Its thin mask of contempt, unconcealing nithe

"Outsight, insight, curses alike
I placed you in a house of spite
To forever seek, yet drift from truth in seeking"

Grasping the "fathers" awl
Which once belit our hollow amidst the dark
Two punctures I make, to undo their gift