Amongst a thousand olive trees that kept
A dream of fragrant breezes and the waves
The harvests failed, and all the children wept
When swallows fled the remnants of the day
For now the Sun is spent, its garlands fall
The petals cast as floral sacrament
To Earth and weary feet that fled the walls
That shook and tumbled with the sky’s lament
Into the mouths of wolves, how could it be
Their baying at the moon did not portend
To shepherds and their flocks, catastrophe
That lay in wait of all things at the end
The screams and wails of Gods and their machines
Intrude upon the edges of our dreams
