polluted

the moon silent
in a thriving, vivid
blossom trapped between
Eden. Dead.

Behold the ancient
always, this wild path
fertile only in the dusk
of being.  Night.
Winter.

A withering growth birthed
in fresh shade, a
dark song living cold,
preservered, but
No Sanctuary in
our confused season -

wander or walk,
rest or leave.
every Above is
just so Below.

Polluted root.