I cast black runes with a blackened hand into black night’s gloom,
As if you had never lived, never breathed in the real world’s womb.
And in answer—only black worms, crawling up from the graves,
From the black endless steppes where the silence still craves.
Black mercury streams down a black, wordless wall;
Nothing clear in you, in me, or in night’s thrall.
A black dream stands solid like granite around,
And the one who was foe is now closer, profound.
Breaking patterns apart with the roar of black steel,
Never noticed my friend fading out on the hill.
And again, the old runes never whisper it all,
Black mercury’s voice pulls to heaven’s dark hall.
Black Runes
© Copyright: Максимильян Мельков, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №125121302058
Свидетельство о публикации №125121302058
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