Infrared.
Casting shadows
in the alley
Which was once our home.
Our palace.
Our place of worship, that now,
Only the devil speaks of
And the weak
We carry ourselves high now
Mighty.

Sadly, our place dies.
Elevated and sacred.
But brings anew, a sea-bed of growth
And a hyacinth of hopeful hue
To think,
All this time you knew.
That I would begin again
Fresh.
Spring and fairy-like against
the darkness of blue