The night is over, but it never ends,
It lasted for the hours at least,
Words were lost in the existence feast,
And every bit of mind each dab reflects.
Each cell repeats the morning dance of two,
Who have replaced us for infinity,
Not limited by consciousness frame,
To say each other there is no clue,
No riddles, sorrow, solitude and pain,
(Surnames, phone numbers, addresses, e-mails)
There is just night and two of those, of us,
Whose dance each cell of universe repeats.
The morning dance
© Copyright: Елена Бурлак, 2009
Свидетельство о публикации №109011600604
Свидетельство о публикации №109011600604
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