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the earth shakes and up roots trees that would
otherwise stand strong. Terrible winds push those
broken limbs from every corner of the earth to
the most sane interior, crushing it and chewing
into tiny bits of burt umber. The same earth that
quakes, wakens the most sorrowful lights that turn on,
leaving the room darker than a night with no moon.
Reaching the victims could never be harder, unless
they drive themselves out of the ashes on bent wings
of the lightest materials. Push those decayed leaves
out of the way and fly to the highest regions of
a sky that is lined with powerless forces and
contains the most wonderful of all dreams.