It was very transparent death of the shadow;
life moved without it.
We both had seen a huge hunger and the veil of poverty,
and a cult of familiar lies in ancient puddles of guilt.
There was no mourning. Love and hate shaped the duality.
Life and death moved hand in hand running in mystic silence.
Some thing has evaporated like a spirit
from the wreckage of emptiness.
A witch hunt started to find the clarity.
A flower melted into a book a primitive instinct,
was there to survive.
My blue valley burns, I stay attuned to fog.
Smoke and slap of winds. calling up the sky.
Illusion of peace shattering the night.
The soaring soul floats on the serene aura of solitude.
I don’t want to wake up again.
