The sky unfurled,
The underside of existence.
And like a loaf of bread,
My mind is fractured in persistence.
Into tiny pieces,
Snippets and crumbs,
Spittle of heavenly darkness
Sealed the light from my chums.
Only flashes of consciousness,
Like echoes of a storm,
My memories, alas,
Like snow in July's warm.
And only one path remains –
To soar as high as I can,
With wings abundant in their reigns,
The countdown has not yet began.
The sky unfurled,
The underside of existence.
Yet motionless lies my form,
While I await deliverance.
Coma
© Copyright: Станислав Видов, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №125030703064
Свидетельство о публикации №125030703064
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