Peace…
Mist-like, crawls with spider hands
Creeping forth to sense winds of opposition.
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Finding none,
Fog settles densely
Lulling into dream-rich slumber,
Slowly morphing sighs into groans,
Raucous laughter into disquieting screams.
Elusive wakefulness,
Engulfed in incubus,
Oppression,
Injustice.
Peace…
* Excerpt from the privately published Observations from the Fall of Man