The savior

There is a ton of void void ness in wanting in
Waiting for the savior. Void voidness too in

Haste. Caricature of a blessed ego waits in
Dark ness, confounding shadow and night.

The rooted ness of roots will hold steady as
Wind makes short work of top soil, the wretched

Silliness, crafty loftedness of top soil imagining
Vapid release. Good goshed gosh, that is not

About to happen, not then, not now, not then.

This entry was posted in Poetry.

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