closed off

closed off from the center
aligned with the edge
overwhelmed with the threat
of civil normalcy
while alone i feel crowded
pushed to and fro by the nothingness
of the splendor
so i have made a mark
small and feeble- a mark though
not as strong as my father
not as deft as my brother
but when i come to that port of holy yore
i only pray that i will have chosen well
to embrace that terrible, beautiful moment
for it is fast disappearing.
it will never come again.