El Aire
Stark naked, a soul bearing all
stands, trembling, in the cold sliver of
a winter's moon.
Freed from its breathing shell,
from behind the heavy, weak beat
beat, beating bars -
escaping in final, long exhales
while the winter's moon vainly tries
to clothe the naked,
to feed the hungry soul with its luminescence.
Stark naked, a soul bearing all
stands, starving, in the cold sliver of
a winter's moon.
Fading slowly into night,
a soul discovers that moonlight is food for fireflies -
and while life is short
death is shorter.
1 comment:
Well done, my friend.
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