The Strangers /the Cloud

The strangers, they battled it out
Left and right
they Mostly all thought
They were onto the
best of the best of the thoughts
Yet...

still more ponderous Thoughts
Awaited them 'round
the next bend
The one they would not reach
'til 2,500 morns from Now

Time being to the One they
argued about, more like
A cloud, than a road -
a thousand for a day
Come what arguments may
it was all - for the SaMe -
If uninformed by the berth
And width of what was,

and continued to be
Ever shackled by their Ideas
that held them solid in place
In a race / in a Mess
full up of jest, not of quest
Saving no one, or rarely -
would they fall off their road

In time and in Space - their
peculiar strain of blindedness
Mace - aimed at the others
and all on to each other
So as not to allow their own
road to be smothered, passed on

Over, no rhyme, no rover - forgotten
and lost... overgrown with
Disuse and other paradigms
now modeled and carried the Fray
Into a far - off different day

Of the timestream unending
from their point of view of
What they thought that they knew -
morphed, shriveled, rewritten,
Sewn up again, strained, all forgiven -

Once more, the great ponderous
thing carried on
And forgot what had happened
as it had happened,
All explained away to perfectionist
serenades on the great
Work of someone ongoing

but some on the sidelines
Fallen off the massive cartloads
- heaped up forever and
Hurdled forward in time
they saw what it was, they
Knew in their heart, and
depart - they did, and so

Took one more step off
that great race out of the Cloud