Stuck in the wilderness, among the sanctums of green and indigo grandeur

Romulus and Remus are writing along their wills, shaking hands with the forest spirits as they pass by on the thorn covered roads

Crowns of silver being woven by the wrens in the willows, transmuting their echoes to blistered esteems

Among these wrecked ships, that naval graveyard whispering ink patches to sandpaper cathedrals

These things set in, among green woods with creatures looking on, as the sun sets upon the world