Poetry

Between the sun and moon 
you come to transcend 
the frescoes on the sky 
for a lost chance. 
 
It fuels the anxiety. 
When do I meet you 
in dark to explore the 
lightning rod. 
 
The inside enemy will 
allude to self-immolation. 
Where will end the 
agony of man? 
 
The carnage continues 
unabated. The crowds are thinning. 
Lurking men on fimbriae dump the veils. 
Who will invite them today?