Zychi III had
indigo skies which
word has it
even a black hole
looked at so covetously
it created a counterfeit world
a replica that a survey crew
before their transmission choked off
After the cull you ordered, the crimson ripples left a legacy
of naked elegance.
The bars of what once was a playground
shared by humans and Sakrnachs
Now, stand off like a sentinel that knows, somehow, he has failed.
In some corporate files from Raschke-Tsumemasa Horizons
– albeit a redacted version –
There’s a synopsis of your work
as an overseer
for their biological weapons lab.
The Council thought you were an unassuming
All they lost were their offices –
At least, as far as I know.
Under the Charter of the Fifth Age,
there may be a secret penalty for
All I know is
I was given amnesty
and the Seal of the Guardians
of Dovk’E Prime.
I find myself puzzling-
did you think the Baroque Wilderness
beyond the Lost Frontier
would be refuge?
Well, it won’t matter
if you manage to make it to the plains of Au’ Tramat
Even the Bloodstained Underbrush
from the war of Ur Shen ‘Tar
with its picturesque wreckage
will look at you as
I’ve been commissioned to find you.
Atrophy is for the playground
Oxidation that soaks into what you obliterated
atrophy is for those who think the book is closed on you
Atrophy is your spawn
your false sense of security
My mission brief is disavowed.
The only vow
You’ll be spared a trial.