*written from a dream*
Rumours abound on the periphery
As the air swirls, colours topaz, blue
Slowly segue, reflected in oily water,
Irradiated horrors roll unseen, slower
Than observances may wholly grasp.
Casual wonderers need not apply here,
Here be dangers sans warning, silent
Serpents of insidious holy fire, burning
The air itself, storms of doom abound,
Shown in those oily pots above ground.