Monarda from Chironex Fleckeri by Douaumont

bloom or burn, who decides the serpent's course?

prove to me, i am no waste
hearken to this orchard before you
the world slaves chose their bonds before
all i seek is enough to provide you

with all i am
my remaining strength will force
the walls to crumble
scattering the fragments of my
"soul" to all

sitting in wait to outstretch their hand

for pride
baffled with conception left behind
the price of existence inclined
with a buried head or fists in your eyes

common visions, like conduit that leads
into the center
diverging from me following with them is promised an uneasy home

i will waste you before you force my hand
pride behind inclined eyes leads me home

• Ambient
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• modern classical
• Minneapolis