Ode From Hidden Kingdom

Yesterday a letter came to us.

From where?

A place,

we don't recognize.

What it was?

It's a epistle from a Kingdom.

Which Kingdom?

A hidden kingdom claiming that it is made by us.

Where it is at?

Depth of the ocean.

How they are there?

They are,

They are laid down under 

discarded pliants, broken chalices,

crushed bottles, shattered glasses,

forgotten plastic bags and

cinder blocks thrown by us.

What they quoted?

They lamented and quoted,

" Its so ironical,

Thou made us 

yet 

Thou never visit us down here,

Thou never ask how we spend our days

down in blazing murk.

We always gaze up at surface and

see a panorama of kicking legs,

boat bottoms or human's bottoms?

We are here only treading water,

letting ourselves paling in the cold,

Waiting for thou

& thou never came to us.

Or perhaps thou wonders,

how a world could be formed under 

junk, dirt and scruffs dumped by thy kind.

Ah now I realize why thou never visit,

Irrespective of fact that we are unexpected and anomalous ,

We are also aberrant and warped form of verisimilitude made by you.

We are here, 

Down here,

Here in this hazy blazing abode,

Thy don't turn away from us.

We are here,

Down here, 

Laid under forsake floss."