Nothingness plagues the streets
And decays the Body.
Delicate pressure deteriorates the
Delicate surface on which we are grounded.
Existence reeks of instability.
Rain packs the cracks, unfilled by
The Protector, as it tumbles
Relentlessly from black skies.
A desperate reaching for more
Drives a wedge between parts of
The Body, who can’t see that they
Desperately reach for black skies.
As the wind sweeps litter through
The plagued streets, so lies and half-truths
Are puffed to carry the Body in
The desired direction,
Barring them from holding real power.
As the mind dictates the nerves,
The Protector guides the Body.
This is freedom.