The ice sheets are advancing
Though the day's air, still,
Hangs damp and hot
Upon your breast.
You can see the distant
Nimbostratus feeding parched
Grasslands feeding weary
Quadrupeds feeding young
Quadrupeds feeding predatory
Quadrupeds.
You can feel the rumble in the soil
As life pours over every detail,
And the vibrancy in a series
Of eventualities.
You can decipher all of this
From the runes burned into my
Fiber, the thrum of the blood
Through my veins,
And the sounds whispering
In my ventricles.
You read all this
And know it within your marrow,
But turn back to your tattered tent.
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