Poetry

A bizarre dream,
You come out in starry
night to touch the moon,
and fall on the thorns.

The eccentric nobility
of lords demands the
evidence of slaughter.
But chariot comes empty.

Order, order.
Someone fails in boots.
You walk barefoot
to meet the god of untruths.

The victim stands
like a prey before the grand
master. The beautiful
pagoda implodes.