kris.

You were given a land— A time, and a place—a space that was yours. The stars colluded for you— Hid away your stunted heart. You slaughtered the Wise child in mirth, and inherited a—kingdom of the dead. The dead worked tirelessly under heavens eye— seeking a crown— a reward buried beneath greed. I lifted my mask, and Saw them awaken. I saw a key vast, and of heft as it turned a lock. Now that land— time, Oh precious space comes to ruin. The same stars who rose you from among— the grain forsake you. Piety chains you to the collapsing pillar.

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I write in order to see more clearly, and sometimes to remember what would otherwise be lost.

— Kris Yotam