Under the long slender wild mushroom,
In the dark stays a god who is blind.

He built a paradise, earth and the people in it,
Mixing mud, saliva and a pinch of darkness.

When every time he moved around,
His creation died.

That is why prayers exist,
For he is so blind to realize,
The brokenness he has fabricated.

– Emily Parker


Posted on

November 19, 2020

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