Cheap timber moans. Papered-over walls peel / Timelapsed seams of enclosure dismantle atoms once again / When right light hits the prints left beyond the glass / The Blind Cartographer marks another altar // Welcome back. We love a broken regular / Purging sapling myths, for ancient authors // Ride the collision and the view grows pretty / As the cracks unravel / The ground turns to something for others later to climb //Let it not be us again // Pointed fingers aim at upbringing / Imprinting stories atop plotless paths / Reentry demands a second offering // In roots we dig to breathe decay / Ground-down tendrils with pestles / Foraged bulbs of Rhododendrons / Myths of the young sons, recollected / Scrape the bark and strike with ferro / Dilute our precursors to designer fires // Through gorge and forest the callused hide / The looping mire which carves the shale // Look to our brothers, blood and others / Parented folders of tomes and orders / Repeat riddles of sacred codas / Mock our marks of pretend progress / These tracks were washed so not to follow / But flags remain for pilgrim vigor // Blame the root, the Three, the Father / Or free the story with slaughtered offer.
