Optic Death and the Color Vision
Rooted to Mother Earth...
Ignoring the sun
As it shines in my face...
Secrets you have hid,
of things that you once did...
Hovering featherless over Blandswood
Pere Punga...
Tremble just to see the line
That tells me I am home...
Repetitions,
twenty four seven...
Death
inevitable, natural...
I am a patzer in this game but
A maven non the- less...
Balancing on a tightrope, holding onto sanity.
Soundness of mind, judgment, vanity defines...
Oh rapturous night
Veil of my heart and soul...
Apathy has consumed our eyes
Nurturing blindness coats our words...
I asked my *Maurluq if it was possible to travel...
She told me when we travel to the tundra's of our...