a soft grey blanket flows through the peaks of green pines
silencing the celestial voice of the moon
while steel horses restlessly paw, panting gas fumes
the volleyball desert, at first glance barren
reveals a complex terrain of mountains and cigarettes
to the watchful eagle's eye
a wooden temple towers, built on artificial ground
cool stone poured into aesthetically pleasing islands
a forty square foot-print
a holy site of human ingenuity
with offerings from the clans of Miller and Busch
lying scattered like bones on the monolithic plain
anbaric lamps imitating miniature stars cast shadows at night
and the once vibrant world takes on unifying hues of blue
I guess the old adage that
"misery loves company"
is indiscriminate of nature