#5B2601

You hated island of blooded sand, threaded by crimson veins and beating sunlight bands, despairing woven shores turned under ragged winds, poxed by dank and blighted woods that gouge your broken skin. Send your bitter burning words aloft into the speckled skies, through speech of secret charcoal soot, give up those diseased ties. The beaches wear your burning spite and twisting noxious groves, dragged through the broken dying reefs by ocean undertows. To splay the flesh across the rocks, Promethean again, as fires eat from ancient feast, your rot forever grand.

Aflame this eve, your loathsome sight, for crime against the Geist: a fetid mass of moldy hope and flower-whispered lies. Decaying in deep sunset lust as carrion hunters cry, those sailing mouths from purview heights with hunger for demise. Beyond the noisy haunting song which cripples ‘cross the land, the snapping beaks from cloudy towns ‘wait scent of burning man.

So fly to where the breath grows thin, and kiss those speckled skies, in aeroship of steel and faith and unrelenting might. Scrape bellies of the desperate beasts and tear apart the clouds. In charity, kind willingness bring food to wanting mouths. From lofted twilight see the isle, with rolling crimson tide: the cruel sand and loathsome grove and rotting seashell eyes. Forgive it for its broken heart and clean the undergrowth. Bring peace and rest unto the soil, for sister and brother both.