The stellar wind in vacant sails,
Ripping through skin and meat,
And grinding bones to dust entails
For sake of new world kneading.
It`s tasteless and its colors range,
Beyond the grasp of feeble sight,
It`s unbiased and without grade,
There is no directing of flight.
And it`s the wind are only in a words,
In fact, it`s more a flow.
So floundering amidst these waves,
You find a seed of glow,
From shot right through - sobbing -
Of chaotic stream corpuscles,
And the pupil is dappled, pitted,
And vibrate even every muscles.
http://stihi.ru/2015/12/23/2256
The stellar wind in vacant sails
© Copyright: Кирилл Сафонов, 2024
Свидетельство о публикации №124012405615
Свидетельство о публикации №124012405615
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