Vanguard of the Light

In a forgotten realm
of never ending peace
where the prince of high
rules with an iron fist
is the vanguard of the light
defenders of the truth
where the end is never near
and the beginning is just a theory
they debate of the existence of gods
in a ruddy light
speaking a language that cuts like a knife
two parts of the same whole
puzzle pieces line up in perfect harmony
to the dance of ideas
and waltzes of wisdom
they joins hands and sing deep
the song that pushes them on
deeper into the night
not knowing if tomorrow brings a different light
for the next day
might be the end of a rule
and the beginning of a new one
to be obeyed without compulsion
in a process that knows no name
where the reason for being
is because the one next to you has the same
focus on life
and menus of choice
of multiple choice answers
with elimination of choice
you speak in the same voice
as the swirl of reality fades
into vectors of simple calculation
that power your mind
never knowing the unknown
you distress in boredom of the simplest kind
not understanding the concept of find
for what you know is already found
you never know a new sound
you only hear waves
never the seashells of stealth
where the vanguard is dancing
in intricate patterns
more complex than you could have felt.