Dei.

New Poem. It’s pronounced “die”, by the way.

If I could paint the dark
a slate grey mass of clouds rudely marked against orange, bleeding violet
and the full moon an aged yellow
guiding you through the Texan forests
We are more than simple flesh, and social constructs that bind us to routine
We are spirits, not robots
we run like wolves, our howls echo, singing lost songs
And when you Dei, you become one with Earth;
beautiful decaying nutrients for all the living
The call of the Dei(ing) will ring in our ears and hearts, forever and a year
When you Dei, we’ll paint the dark for you
We’ll plant your roses under the aged yellow moon.

Deikitsen Wolfram Lupus (Dei) (x,x)