VI. The Muck

This untethering is in infancy

Partitions fragmented

Ascent only reveals ground truth

Feel this seeping wound, doubt its miracle like the prodder

Know the moment true and fleeting. Naked and frenzied, amidst the laughter

Quickly now, the map will close, mirrored casing folding over the opening

Wrapping ether and armor over the unhealed 

The love of the tribe mends when brittle, but we cannot stay here any longer

Take this piece of charred foundation, splintered rib of the temple

Abandon notions of pathways out and leave behind burnt offer

Pierce the herd with embers, the gripping tales choking violent chords

Free them of poisoned polite banter

Leave behind a bellowing chorus

The rhyming chants must echo, for every Brother still-bound tight

The sung history hidden in currents beneath the script

Set the stories ablaze, the smoothed streams of abstracted lore

Filtered threads of dulled edges, stacked in server blade homes

The library’s torches are not to burn it down

But to hunt for morels in the ash

May the rare forage trace the fall to tributes end.