Grey skies, an ocean of air and smoke,
Lustrous implication in the windcurrent,
A river born from stiff lungs &
The rigidity of tradition.
Beneficiary collecting
The manna of the crescent moon
In a bag woven of ferns and straw,
Cheery imp dew-flung into
The majesty of life—
I meld the conception of a hurricane
Crafted of mist and fire
Into the scalding amphora of volatility
Crystal vessel mind
Into the waning enthusiasm of birth
(Pass, infant, pass)
Into the tonsils of leviathan.
Beast, you breathe fatality
And live, defying the tenor of
Mortal anxiety and doubt that
Follows my people who swim
In smog and feast on stone.
@d-pend