In the leaves that fall where upon the light gathers
the fauna and resembles the ant taking steps into
the vast layers of architects that design and destroy-
In this place a lasting relief lays upon the only escape
of the entrenching darkness ensued already and
laughing a the lightning striking limbs and casting of
dim shadows over the background, that is barely
seen by the ant-
Life cannot inch a breath between or without until blood
can seep back to where it lives in a safe place, a one
touching glance or a crimson river that tries to
remember where from it became, to only rest amongst the
habitat that is now endowed by the ant.
With the base assumption, all things are not created
equal. This poem is a test of skill and listening to
the sounds that interrupt the course of the living.
An old Dutch work for the days lazy sun.
