Poetry

Trampling the borders, he started
losing his vibrations.
He was asking for the perpetual forgiveness
for his bandaged ego.
The new incarnation.

For the broken homes
he refused to admit his side of guilt
and jumped into the frozen lake
for nursing his hot blood.
The faithless star.

The world did not exist
in total freedom.
Let him sleep, sulking away,
under the sea of wounds
unlistening to the wailing winds.

Not for the seeds
not for the flowers,
the crowds were assembling for the essence
of the drifting truth.
Nobody knew the red hot destiny.