Reclaimed land

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Reclaimed Land

The pinnacle…

follow the lights and you will find the gold.

A Severn wind rattles the soul,

rain like pins my face a cushion.

Edifice a vision, wooden windows a fact,

a collection of faces glued in community,

Now divided again by scheme funded foolery.

To escape is to renounce

only with strength from intrinsicality.

As thrust upon pages turn,

A dyeing side street lives

on the ensign of principality