In a blinding second of memory,

Discoveries trickle down streams of consciousness

Under a lush canopy

Of interwoven fears.

Ignorant herds cling to the shore,

Tentatively dipping their feet,

While eternal predators prowl near by,

Like chanting Morlocks in the night.

Christ, the cult king, perches atop a broken monolith,

Watching and waiting,

For his kingdom come.

Deep in the jungle,

Ancient beasts are waking

From the fragile captivity

Of hallow dreams.

Staring up into the darkened sky,

Lit by firefly angels,

The herd, uneasy, stirs.