we search back underground, each lost mother traced in roots.

standing in light, reaching forwards reaching back, shadow spanning time.

it's an old body that lies,  grumbling nothing to gain from lifting, eyes to the sky.

a rose has need of red, the wrap of petal, blooms to be found, and found in time, fades.

anticipate destruction, build for destruction, fuel, crush, empty.

consider the ripple, its leading edge in tension with desire, its trailing edge looking over its shoulder.

a red flag to warn you life is short and caution needs the wind.

our biggest lies are kept out out of sight.

particulate, neighbours, insulated from knowing the tides that will take us.

the skin scares away from the body, blistering from the heathland still burning.

oh the irony of the rage wasted in your acid battery. as pantomimes of power grin at their slaughter.

bring me news only of the roots and the worms.

delusions, attachment wounds and epic grandiosity.

behind your fingers i shade the parts that would fly loose.

little speck adrift, thin film beneath, shadows above, you carry the mother ship.