The growing grass slopes were surmounted
by the sky of death, by confused
thoughts and by a smoking moon.While taking a deep,
crouching breath, a greedy beast started
...
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So many cry their God's it's hard to see the moving mist as smoke unseen so I wait for words to take me to that place where words are heard...iip
Encryption in a blender makes a good drink especially with a pinch of melancholy. I love your poem, a lot of depth and with some of what is rarely seen, Great job.