Surround me with music
And people and things and projects
Project a surrealism into the spaces
That are tighter and pollination intimate
Traction is a matter
Of mass and connection
Whose impulse
Drives trains, plains, a fraught mobilities
To move is divine, such was the claim
Insurance won't be paid out on that, however
Go and you lose love, loyalty, and the lee of the wind
Quiet listening couples with care and precise amounts of water
Growth at any cost
A broken religion whose worshippers
Believe in nothing and no one and race death and you know who wins
Stay
Roman Ryan 