[ P S I T H U R I S M ]

[ P S I T H U R I S M ]

Balanced between madness and calm -
sitting beneath a whisper of wind
engaged in conversation, in abstract
communion; this stuttering psithurism
and the dirge of my sins.

With eyes like tree bark
and teeth like amber,
(the truth trapped within)
I watch forests descend,
that stutter – a scream.

Oh, brethren, fall.

Should I call for help?
Should I stand my ground?

Balanced between madness and calm -
will I watch my brothers diminish,
will I watch them fade?
Engaged in rebellion, I sacrifice pride;
unless we do, they’ve already died.

The End

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