after Breath of the Wild
A still lack of verbs

in the landscape: cliffs still

the climate— rain on the grass, mist

off the streaming, lighting in

the draw-distance— still temperate,

monsters unhelpful, but no

new aggro, no

random encounters. The divine

beasts corrupted, but

still: the hot mer-folk still at risk

of fresh water, but in time

absent. The lightning storms

the chill shadow of a sky-box

of birds, a death

mountain. As sealed away as the villain

in the castle, the sword

in the stone in the forest . The end always

now, a one chosen

by you/ the fish king, father of your crush/ principal/

side/shrine quests. You
picture: the hero face down

a river-shallow, the bank light blue

pink flowers, a play

of reciprocal in/output/ a fire blade

an elite moblin still

victorious, words interrupting

the still, no, do it once

more: the open-world such as

it is: The cliff existing

to climb, the people to

save repeatedly, forked lightning to conduct

along forged weapons, sans

warning, the fox in the brush for

resources. Link the fire. The world/you still

exist. But
picture: land still

but alive: you must still

but the grass a river

in full hale, against your feet

absent, an exhale, a wind through non-

      –      existent grass blades. You

still but in your absence

horses over the ruined, reclaimed hill

mountain goats on the lip of cliff

without danger, fish

in the rivers/creeks            sea

birds around the overgrown remains

of a still stable.