T H E E N D C O M M U N E

i know neither well these fresh waters nor this dew of clouds, though beautiful as they all are. the umbelliferous flower shakes and twists afore me, dancing almost humanlike... which is alluring... i can feel the mushroom take hostage my senses. the medusae sing the sorrow of ancient pylons, which, by the way, reach heaven; these girls built what babylonians could not muster, and now they converse with the divine.