A decimated psalm

and a petulant pilgrim, 

salvaged perhaps, 

by an astral map

leading far away 

from plaster saints, 

but not to neverlands, 

rather to wandering

and wonderment:

tiptoeing around 

galaxies, indulging in

the spirit of anarchists, 

only to reveal 

the deciduous idyll

didn't really fool you;

it's the wisdom of Yggdrasil

to shed some leaves

and ask: what roots you?