I am grateful for the respite though, from desert to desert flexed
Every print of ground arid from the heavily rationed rain
Do I focus on the blistering noise shining, relentless, unrestrained?
And the cackling mob grasping at the heaving convex
I anticipate that course through the mouth of hell again
Then an absence, mere days, is enough to rend the veil
And its graffito - the Via Vitae - that I embellished with care
I come home and sigh that nothing lives there
In the cure of rest I contort, strain, flail
I sup industry as palliative from my biodegradable grail
But really, what nonsense envelopes the conditioned mind
The lots were drawn and, with grace, I suffered my gruel
Home is the spring of the strong nuclear fuel
That shatters my art of the living-dying kind
I spun for silken comfort, but wove myself blind.
@nepion_boreas17
