I am in an alien church
A monestary
A palace of industrial
The giant rumble
Of a planet’s engine
Emitting from beneath
Subterrainean foundations
Set in bedrock
The volume
Invokes dieties
Glass flowers bloom
Metallic water scrapes the river bed
The coral trees cast shadows
Hundreds of paper monks
Journey across the empyrean landscape
In red serpentine ribbons
Chanting in the lower registers
Reaching the tops of mountains
Surrounded by tumescent galaxies
There they sit on wursted blankets
Meditating
Until they catch fire
Their shaved heads
Candle wicks
Flaming out
In the wind
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