The leaves will turn — turn into dim,
the stars glow shade in vaults of night.
Yet life persists beyond the dizz,
a mirror counts each blink in might.
Through dark and light, the tide stays clean —
somebody does not care a dime.
The look from where the sea retires —
yet Reaper too must wait its time.
No force beyond the grasp of time,
but time cannot exist without
the waves trapped in its tight bind.
The sea still sings — the voiceless howl.
My dream comes true, a truce between
eyelashes, eluding the eternal bribe.
Life sells itself — death buys on lease.
Illusions feel so very right.
Yet Reaper too must wait its time.
The tree counts glowing leaves in night.
Nobody pays a fee, feels free.
But even time shall bend the knee.
The leaves will turn turn into dim...
© Copyright: Анна Аион, 2026
Свидетельство о публикации №126050905360
Свидетельство о публикации №126050905360
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