First — just a scream.
Not bird. Not child.
A crack in the membrane of God's dream.
Something wild.
It hits the ribs. It grinds the teeth.
You don't know whose.
But deep beneath,
a cold, electric consciousness.
High note.
Held like a knife.
Not a child's throat.
A different kind of life.
Then —
the slide.
The fall.
The break.
And in the silence after the shatter,
on the last breath before the matter
forgets,
a woman's whisper.
"Are you there?"
The planets burn.
The planets care.
2026
The Howl of the Spheres
© Copyright: Полина Пехтерева, 2026
Свидетельство о публикации №126031700399
Свидетельство о публикации №126031700399
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