Lament For The Forgotten Druid's of the Black Forest Who Had Their Skin Flayed and Bodies Burned

I listen only to the wild and cathartic singing of the trees

I see the path of the ancestors and what Man has done to the forest

I begin to decompose in real time, spilling sand onto the grass

I am picked up by the wind and carried West, landing in Clifton campus

I rearrange and become myself again,

Among the coool Bristol people

I wish I was a coool Bristol person

But it's never worth it

I could instead compress myself to a gemstone, be placed in a necklace that glints in the sun

But neither option would ever satisfy

What is holy, is the minutia and the building blocks

The foam that physics sits on is comfortable for all body types and the gods there are all alike

They are friendly without speaking, content without eating and are lamenting for the forgotten druids of the Black Forest

This is their forgotten hymn,

The repeating cycles of man, woman, society, civilisation and death

We walk the same paths and meet the same crossroads as those who came before, separated by time only

Where the gods are fickle and troubled, we are only getting to know them,

So we can get to know the truth of cultures past and understand in greatest detail, our own worlds

And we will have druids sit at dining tables where we will eat and drink and reminisce about the past