Illyria

Wild woods of hungry wolves
strike fear into the moon’s beauty.
Her etched crater surface
smoothed by his blindness,
echoes the satisfying call
soothing his boldness.
Pale shimmering gold glinting over
mountain pines,
magnifying pain in electric candlelight.

Pine’s bough and river’s water suffocate,
block out oppression and suppression.
Aroma chasing fears down
the flaring nostrils of humanity.
Crayoned calamity
clings to the intestines of
the insidious ones.

Grey charcoaled walls of dirt and decay
plunge upwards out of molten clay.
Storms brewed in a cauldron of ages.
Ancient ones splashing and dashing
laughing from homes, havens away.
Discovered deep in thunder’s ear and lightning’s eye,
as we view suffocated serenity and
laugh with the God’s in their grand ballroom.