Desolation Content

We call it the center
of the world within, that
melds the very wondrous.

Deep, filled with the
dying light of gilded lanterns,
the phoenix light again,
shining remittance of
our payment. Thrown
pennies into the depths of
miserable blue, left. But this
world, full of many oceans
and depths unthinkable,
we begin to question
which way, and how.

Too far for our legs to
dash through, desolation
of the black tundra. The
blinking abyss, our eyes
wink, saying a callous joke
to a crowd of empty seats.