Acaciathorn

Once, wise men said the Earth was flat, Now they say a sphere But I the traveler have seen A world arranged in tiers. It’s three steps up and three steps down With nothing in between Each step a realm unto itself One black, one gray, one green. The uppermost, the sunlit land Is lush with verdant choir Babbling brooks and rustling reeds Birdsongs in the briar. Down below, the Black Land sleeps Silent and austere Into this reverent quietude All must disappear. The middle tier, a hidden plane, Of neither sun nor shade A misty, lonely everscape Where those like me have strayed. The Gray Land has no native souls All wanderers are we Dur

In azure depths, two turtles find their bliss, Companionship, a shield against the storm. A lighthouse beacon in the vast abyss, Their once-cold blood at last begins to warm. On moonlit nights, they glide through silver streams, An undersea expanse for their château. They search for solace in each other's dreams, A love that only deep-sea creatures know. At break of dawn, they curse the callous light That beckons each to distant, rocky shore. Their moods, a coral kingdom bleached to white, They journey on, and wordlessly endure. Though oceans vast may keep them far apart, Their love, unyielding, binds them heart-to-heart.