Many trusses intersecting With a couple interesting Evening starlight beams reflecting Stainless grasses in the wind On the marble crystal walkways Of the demon stricken path Marked with solar power lamps I know my mothers would be sad I see the flags of such grey people Topped with such judgmental crows Kiss my lungs while understanding What the wise no longer know Gentle waters touch the brickwork Solemn winds caress the panes Walk with coldness on your skin Where no one cares to give their name What’s the freedom of this hellscape? How’s the wonder of this shameful Hymn? Whose decrepit wanton purpose Sings a silver angel’s gentle din? I’d feel at home between the livid walls If to the orange sky we’d ever talk We let it hang above the silver pathways Where the fearless empty shoes still walk What’s the difference if it’s quiet then? Can there be joy in silver emptiness? Can we forever bear to suffer where this Concrete temple comfort is?