Last of the Ascension (Verse) - 8

Tovangar

Laughter carried across the water—
gulls, surfers, lives in motion.

He had stayed here—
longer than most things stay.

Guardian—
they would have called him.

Protector of a place
that did not belong to him.

Tovangar—
before it was renamed.

Sacred—
before it was simplified.

He knew the names—
which did not make him worthy.

He had accepted the role—
because there was nothing else to accept.

But belief—
had never come easily.

Angels, he thought,
should not need redemption.

They should arrive whole—
not assemble themselves afterward.

And yet—

here he was.

Still carrying.
Still asking.
Still not enough.

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