Who could have guessed that so many years would pass,
Before I’d return to my self, like to ancient runes...
To continue the flight of a soul, cleared like glass,
In the creative surge where the spirit communes.
Five years of silence — five years of bottomless hush,
And now, like an infant’s cry on the soul’s sharp edge...
The verses are born in a shimmering, radiant rush!
Born like the stars, like a lightning’s blue-bolt pledge!
Like the roar of a wave in a mighty, shuddering throe!
Like the rustle of leaves... like the scent of a rose.
Like a wondrous sculpture that nature’s hands bestow,
Born like a song, escaping the silence of death.
In a plastic melody...
Born like a song!
Escaping the silence...
Born like a star!
Returning to the runes...
Renewed creativity
© Copyright: Алёна Гаштольд, 2026
Свидетельство о публикации №126022409783
Свидетельство о публикации №126022409783
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