The obelisk watches, silently--
Watching the beings on the other side of the glass,
Inhabitants of what may as well be a different universe,
Frolicking in the sunlight that is lethal to vaer fragile perception
And laughing while they engage in movements and emotions
That would shatter vaer unbreakable form.
Vae keeps out of their sight, feeding on
What little vestiges of cold and quiet vae can glean
From this bright-warm-loud world whose populace
Has never dreamed of the constellations flecking vaer surface,
Has never even conceptualized the galaxies shining through vaem.
These worlds are not for them, anyway.
And how could they be? Cosmos upon cosmos
Of languages existing within lexical gaps,
Of conceptual webs transcending dimension,
Of eternities encapsulated in attoseconds
And intangible hues with all the force of thunder.
These things are not for mortal minds, tethered to sunshine and soil.
No, it is better that vae hovers alone, apart, adrift--
Unsure, sometimes, whether what vae feels is pity or envy.