Deep night with a thousand points of light
myriad empty silos in sight
all seems right every blasted thing wrong
rockets fly so high to win the fight
Expanse of ocean, life within dies
molecules spin, warm liquids rise
constant sea slurps, gurgles slack tracks waves flip
drip echos fusion ships over size
Politics bars theonomous poor
cult of ill reason can sell the wars
alternative season could escape cost
lost original sin does win more.
11 March 2022
Gentle Goodnight (a poem)
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