Journey to the sea restless inland upland hills and mountainside, the people now spillover the crowded land, all churches are forts, as ports, are locked down planes, are empty millions surround high meshes, sound bounds and rebounds from darkened town buildings sky black and birds fall, animals wail, no masters have they. As abandoned and wild in the wildest are they. Free to ravage scrap and limbs.
Faintly drawing and tuning a few isolated humans are the sound of a wind horn trembling in some distance, where this leads in compass like magnetic draw sneaking on the meek and lowly, creep past steaming hordes of foul broken democracy.
Where politics amount to nothing in confusing melee of the madness estate, in old Britain land where the union jack no longer lifts her time tired subjects but yet sound beacon drowns the ears and floods the brains of the chosen, for only they will hear as they are drawn to a crooked coast near oxbow waters of choppy seas restless gravitational and disturbed.
Mother moon squeezing cheeks and creating pressure appears to divide and spread apart this angry hiss of now parting sea, so strong is the parting gap that in it’s width ground is dry for meek incumbents to see, as they are drawn to what is to become a world enclosed beneath with former world reminded.
Now gone to a turbulent other land beneath and beyond all other and former known in acceptance of new Neptune. His staff now receding beneath irritated wild waves the poor and lowly now set upon an evolving journey as twenty first century Britain in notional sense of earth time, is left to its continual destructive finale, till her fires are drawn and out inland she remains as trees and fauna now cover without trace the blighted land devoid of the worst of human earth model only faint echoes of church bells added to the sky can be heard by know-one.