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Gods Of The New World
I’m walking down a narrow road, it bends and winds, hot gravel crunches beneath my feet. Four red poppies droop in the thick air to my left. Four dead crows strung upside down on thin branches to my right. A spiked creature scuttles into the shadow of some dry grass. A soft mechanic hum somewhere in the distance. I am not the only inhabitant here.
The veil between this world and the next grows thinner
Signifying the changing of seasons, growth and transformation of the landscape
The spirits of nature are more active, and more willing to make themselves known
Embracing the sun and its electrifying power,
We worship the things that are lost, to make space for the new
They writhe, sweat, and mingle, hatching from a saturated ground, calcified shells, raised and translucent atop the land. Their bones poke through the membrane of a soil pregnant with synthetic matter.
By morning, they shall inherit the earth
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