A field of fauna
naked crescent, nest of sprites
ancient flora bathed in light
murmurs scurry
born in blood
rumors buried in the mud

humble servants, with backdoor guile
trawling secrets, all are smiles
devoid of gems and fancy dress
it is They who shepherd, They caress
the Conspirators of grand descent

No more corruption; impunities, dispel
we are locked in battle with ourselves
where death is noble
like a masked judge in a masquerade
idle chatting, games to play
with an eye transfixed on time and frame
If birth is but a gentle dawn
as is death a setting sun
violent and calm
an oath of blood between gods and men
thrashing and maundering into a night without end

An irrational mind floats quietly away
unaware of all there is left to be known