the way, this is.

grogu, my child, i have not passed the test.

fortunes of old at my honor’s behest:

to keep you close upon this beskar chest.

i turned to riches / gold, all creditless,

for you into my foundation protest.

grogu, my child, i have not passed the test.

foundlings are we within our razor crest.

. . . i cannot deny fath’ring expressed.

i’ll keep you close upon this beskar chest!

and lo, we’ve found extinct wizardry blest!

butterflies and fresh fumes give no new rest.

grogu, my child, have you not passed the test?

abductions – dank farrik! mine ship distressed.

yet, greater so your small toy dispossessed;

its worth more cosmic than this beskar chest.

the way, jedi, nor sith may me divest.

for creed i’ve sworn such zealous unkrow’d nest!

grogu, my child, i have not passed a test,

but kept you close within this beskar chest.



@calichefields lives upon the prehistoric ruins of the permian basin; an ma candidate specializing in the poetry of sor juana inés de la cruz. they’re rooted in interdisciplinary natures and their work dwells within the kitchen, its sciences and philosophies.

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