Gold sand
Is flying
Into the light
A lamp is burnt
By wings
Of mind flyers
The sound of wine
Catches fire in veins
Sparkles with body crystals
And while the lid of silence
Is ajar
Fugitives of passion
Throng
In the eve of chains
Windows
In the mad kaleidoscope
Of celestial patterns
You’ll come
To a standstill
And the last night’s crows
Will carry you away
Into the dark
Of such
Blackness
That even fear
Crouches helplessly
To the bark
Becomes an incarnation of
The cutting-off-flesh
Dust
Love full of peace…
*** ***
Gold sand
© Copyright: Сергей Муценко Избранное, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №125032103347
Свидетельство о публикации №125032103347
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