The tower exists as a thing unlike anything in its own world
Its time slowly dripping through a sieve of mist
A structure cursed by immobility and immutability
Its internal beams adamantine but its facade perpetually crumbling
Erected imposingly in the desolation, under a vault of ashen sky
Drear in aspect, imposing only because of its utter isolation
Unchanged, unchanging, unchangeable
The tower stands in fierce opposition of the great empyrean
But achieves nothing of effect
Prideful in its ambition and conation, but weakened in its will
A kilometer high, and verging upon the inch of its life
And ensconced deep within this monolith
Beats a heart terrible and tremendous
Pulsating like some endearing horror
Shining like darkness; loving like hate
The tower has stood here an age, and not even a minute
A monument to all that is other and unending
M.M.
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