Fooled into having been made to cross the ocean
Of devotion,
Of sadness
And awareness
Of a feeling for which there is no remedy,
I keep placing you into the centre
Of a divine comedy.
While your finger points at the Moon,
I see the darkness of Pluto
In your plutocratic mind,
A perfect mind
That consists of medieval books
And acts of bravery.
While one river bank burns,
You attack the other
In search for sacred texts.
Knowledge has never been so
Monumental,
Our minds have never been as close
As now
When we daydream
In the distance.
Stratagems
© Copyright: Марина Чиянова, 2022
Свидетельство о публикации №122110602442
Свидетельство о публикации №122110602442
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