Blue haze, earthly spike that rips the sky,

greeting the legions of bark soldiers waiting for the call.

The silence, their general,

leading them against those who oppose the tranquil, the balance.

The citizens of the city burrow,

crawl, climb and leap toward their daily tasks,

reassured by the soldiers who grant

them shelter under their presence.

Water is god here, and her lover the sun,

and together they lead the nation with a gentle hand.

Rooted religion, the moon takes confessions

no sin ever spoken, only seen, accepted, and forgotten.

A land without excess or wants carved by the ether itself

and left as time’s play thing.

Alexander Gonzalez