This culture seems designed to vitiate
morals my path forward delineates.
A whirlwind of fear produces anger.
I’m scapegoat at their disposal, gangsters
united, throwing bricks. Malleable light,
I change swiftly as perceptions alight,
informed by spirit messengers who dine
and bless the air in sacred signs align.
Featured image a gorgeous huge white egret visited yesterday after I made so much of a tiny white moth. As if my deceased loved ones sending messages said, A moth? Pshaw. Hold my beer…