Already, Not Yet

Become my life and see that it has been

A simple one, a kingdom without end

Within the order of Melchizedek,

Companions to the paramount of peace,

Completeness any sage aspires to,

Bound deep in inkwells stacked upon a shelf

And servants dreaming of a better day

To use and read the thoughts their hand may form.

And yet I seem to grow too quickly old

As spirit recognizes countless clouds

In which my soul misread as sunny sky,

Or which my mind had sorted as the same;

For this, I spark my candle in the light

To search for hidden relics in the wax.