Throe of Upheaval

A bloated moor giving way to yet another
Impending fanfare silhouetting exalt
As an olden oak sees a life
As the rooted marl endures all
Arraying grandeur sleeping upon layers of rebirth
Enshrouded edge of dominion swelling and shriveling
Chains of eld repeating

Warmest merriment washing over unease
Belied sanctuary, creaking with middling draws
Neath linens lie strains of erasure,
The galling trials of a questionless end
In the trough of an undulant bascule,
A weary bog is cleansed in flames of renewal
Awaiting another