ENSHROUDED

The Night is green
With sorrow and dull pity;

The silence is singing throughout
The catacombs of a
Mere echo;

The Moon is scattering its
Tremors in
Effulgent shrieks of
Pain,
Hanging loose, pouring its
Venom and gore over
A feeble shapeless dwarf…

Neither Life nor Death are there
To bring
Peace to this
Cataleptic picture.

Dump and fierce
Vaults of
Incandescent lights
Keep expanding into swarms of
Pestilent Wasps that are
Wandering like mad in search for
The Seed of
Vengeance.

And Time, the almighty
Conqueror of all
Regrets,
Is running short and dim,
Stumbling and limping
Beyond the bridge of all
Ingratitude,
Looking for
Solace in the soft and strangely luring
Attractiveness
Of the midnight’s
Shroud of Moths.


Copyrighted © Sorana Salomeia, Iasi, Romania