There is a futility towards the external, that which does not allow result. The purple flower flutters as peace in pieces for the eyes to consume. All its power lies within living canal and tunnel, within the glories we do not see. All its mysteries are within the slowing down of worldly rhythm under thumb and neck and wrist. Its seeds and its seeds’ seedlings wait on paused condition. Under such rule, these pulses murmur and whisper over timed time, dividing as they roam such a mass. These beats halved and halved again, like footsteps slowed to the walk of dirges’ decrescendos. Suddenly there is the lifting, the heightening unknown, unwanted, the plastic bag over the brain, the sharp and climbing breath that scales too lofty uncontrolled unwarranted and rebellious, soon arrested under hand and heart, unable to meet such stimulation, it, without a hope. The flower consumed is the fighter on cue. There is no keeping it, the speed of paralysis outrunning, overcoming the only home such a heart ever knew, now shelled.

Aligned on arrowed spine, the stance of the warrior does not stir in his thin and scaly armor. Emitting essence, breath, and a deadliness soaking his spiraled lanceolates, ridden with toxic seed, he deceives the thrushes pursuing arils. They are soon surprised by death in the guise of life. Catuvolvus, as well, cast himself away by consuming fatal seed, taken by war-pride, released by yew. The raw assassin is prepared to vanquish beast and bird, to still-battle strangers amongst his ages. And yet, he wields an ancient light. In peace, he guides departed shadows home.

Suspended throughout the whorls of thick and leather lie the bodies within the body, the circulate-replies to unwanted clamor, to the tumult that is and will always be ambush. To react is to release the predetermined split seconds of defenses waiting in their sweetly scented chambers. They still for you to draw them in to meet your bones, to test the shallows of your blood, to let them live as final breaths, they are soon left to be drooled and drained onto the forest floor’s consumption. Such venom is discovered, is mortality resting useless until summoned in the most snap-immediate need of death seeping from life. This hermit poison destined to drift within its mothers veins, to be truly toxic when its response comes as shock-motion.