isn't there always a blink of epiphany in the wind?
it's like a poriferous cloud of words
swallowing me, wrapping me up in its warmth
a calming wave of light, fondling my skin
it's always there, extending its soft limb
its breath is sketching lines on my wooden palms
slowly crawling down my neck and frozen little spine
creating ornaments of traces on my wadded legs
which will muffle me on my weakest days
whether it's infinity or insanity, it is mine
and with it, i'm not alone, keep doing fine
at least I can believe in it, this inner flame
a never-ending heat inside that feeds the game
whether it s infinity or insanity, it is mine
© Copyright: Арина Барселина, 2017
Свидетельство о публикации №117050706844
Свидетельство о публикации №117050706844
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