Lunacy

Lunacy looms

where cacophony booms

and the cries of a child

echo into the wild.

‘Tis then that we need

to refind our own seed

and talk to a tree

about how to be free.

“Look at all the lonely people, where have they all come from?”

About a foolhardy florilegium

Nullius addictus iurare in verba magistri, quo me cumque rapit tempestas, deferor hospes.
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