Here is the very green cut.
And the sap shows itself as a running
Clear juice in the vial of time.
On a gradient of eternal length,
Is balancing a Proton awaiting the descent.
A crib and a grail are the story
Here is a servant dead,
The very force of life
Deadened and hidden.
Crushed under the weight of knowledge,
A childish crush, an evil.
And an old man held to account
By history and reflection.
I belong to the unsaughtafter
Those deemed forgetable.
Copyright 2020 Christoher Thompson all rights reserved.