All lines in the sands erode once unimagined


Were you but a cog of circumstance?

Leverage in the throes of deliverance

In which you toiled, too tired these days


Prime order disengaged

Primordial chaos reigns


Arise like the Arab spring

for middle ground west of kings


The hands of man twist and

turn and tinker anew

Fault lines shiver under

Should the waves of tension follow through


And they pose, irenic souls that never meant to,

never wronged you

And they pose, self deputized to marshal in,

their sanctuary guards you


As the posses swarm their despots

warn impending doom befalls those who…

Wilderness bellows and springs forwards

and back upon the fallen