Your leavening, and i lied somewhere

This has come to jeopardy, and abuses,
Once in a path across your homeland, i
Saw on, the gray road, plated between, green
dashed, empty stretches, parted by wooden wire strung
Fence, etched into the sides, one of the few dips so that the
Horizon was obscured with a heavy, paled tones,
Only the defused spectral sun’s gray-blues, could palette
Unto all in view.


as in your sight, there was only distances, splattered
in silent damp, and no stirring could ever be
ascribed to anywhere; near.