Poetry

Shy from finding
the depth of your being?
I was walking on the
cobbled shadows.

Like thinking of
afterlife, when you were
preparing legacy of black moon.
Who would not do it?

Would you go to
the fire temple to know
the age of dying god?
Space widens between the eyes.

The grid cannot
hide the deepening chasm.
Your musing shifts. A pen,
the paper and words assemble.