Without magic new or old
what’s gotten might be spun to gold
Heed the warning of the overgod
All before who sought to tame
these sheep are slowly
turning into sod
Thus turned aside from the obvious approach
contemplating how their territory to broach
Simply wait until they’re asleep
and thus gather the
castoffs of these
slumbering golden sheep
gods don’t need gold no, neither wool
It’s obvious by now
She’s playing poor Psyche
for a fool
but as a whole world rushes to her defense
she just might make it
gathering wool
left snagged
on that barb wire fence
what
No comments:
Post a Comment