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Poem




         Underworld, of changelings, 
where shadows loom,
There lies a world, vitrified, consumed,
Its surface hardened, a relic of alchelimes,
a testament to sorrow, frozen in language 
warning signs.

Once a haven of life, brimming with dreams,
now encased in glass, a tragic plightstoscene.
Whispers of laughter, now silenced, 
veiled by the icy grip, 
by memories assailed upon it's sardonic lips

North, stood a river, flowing, 
purely succumbing to the liquid cascade of dreams.
Now stands a monument, 
empty and obscure, 
a sewage treatment plant of fear 
and conspiracy, not theory,
but excremeofsupremacy 
of Triremes of war eclipsing peace and prosperity.
A mosaic of black emotion, punishment's devotions. 

Change resides in this vitrified tomb,
like fangled shards 
of black mirror cutting Bards and Poets in handling, reflecting from corpused firmament womb, harpypsychords in accord with gloominess 
and despair
etched on its face,
Obsidian tears.

The competing  vision of the North-
sees a great Western deluge. A revival of the Sisterlings and the Brotherly.
Beasts roam like children in caravans 
to witness mankind,
to pay homage for eyes opened,
having seen for the first time, 
how things are meant to be, sublime.

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