Gord

2016-09-21 12:00 am

One imagines themselves mighty,
Brightening the sand green,
Perspiring with the people,
Irradiated as it may be,
It feeds the mind, for free.
No future winter seeming fair.
Porous players will evolve,
With sinister gods favored.
Last of a virtue,
Patronizing and redefining the former earth,
Denying that which lies between our worlds.