Poezja

This moment of flaccid connectivity
Shall spur and burn into systems
Unfolding, unrelenting expression
Red like the eyes of trees beholden witches
Young and old, dark and cold
Shine the light projected forth
In blue hair not so clean
Godliness is next to vanity
The void draped in colors made soft
The harsh freedom of the splintered night
Come together
Round the fire 
Worship the wind