it was…

it was

one of

those

moments

saying all

knowing all

even before

the next

bat of a lid

breaks open

the night,

an awed beauty

having nothing

to do with beautiful

and only by

the absence of the sun

which secretly

gives birth to the scene

illuminates

the shrine

of my prayer

like a short-circuit

after a long

thunderstorm,…

 

he rocked

her to sleep

without

touching her

although

her beaming

would make him

appear in a

different light

tiny as he was

as if he

was singing

one last note

before he vanished

 

thus those two

keep on

living

in their own world

and keep hiding

from us

whatever we

are…

 

lover

and

mistress,

crescent moon

and

venus

both,

the woodpecker

in the morning

rummaging

for the final crumbs

in his beak

 

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