Poezja

The spirit was not there
under the skin-
in grey domain.
I will not seek any revenge on self.

The defeat was my solo passage.
I am still searching
myself in the crowd.
More than enough, I had my share of hurts.

Talking of the innocence
of a womb, when you were not
born. The steel in your hair
and empathy in your tongue.

A wandering sage will
not love the fall of night.
You see better in twilight. The
shadows give an illusion of angels.