This Is Not Charn

A small apple tree

sits in the sand

at the crack of the path.

It’s dusty

and the apples

are parched crisps.

.

In a year before our Lord,

the tree was planted.

Over time,

the tree’s roots

have grown

vastly immense

below the ground.

.

They scrap the ceilings and walls

of other worlds

as their own

lays dying.

.

In the cold blue sky

sits a large

blood red sun

with a celestial moon

alongside it,

this is not Charn.*

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