Llyn Bloeddia

Appearances in your conscious estate were measured

by an organless physical deity, not the death of anything.

Choose automatic offerings, it is us that deny,

Us that must always fall:

the truth that makes you cry.

Walk and unravel the clog, the clod and the Clodgey

Told you everything seen in the flaming pyre

tell them there is no-one god

Never give up the gift of this world

or turn back to the blue slate path again

In troubling times we would walk through the pines

the shade smokes and clears, resinous reason anew

we thought those trees would live forever and oddly

they were taken by wind and weather in shallow soils

noble rock uncoils, unfastened apart together.

 

Done