Poezja

Have you ever seen,
how the moon rises to tell the
story of slaying?

December was white,
I scramble to plank the blog
was to warn you.

The stillness quivers
words flow in icy air to
fix a tattoo on your arm.

You give a hearty
laugh, winning a race on
stingy thorns.

Your secret journey
begins like an odyssey to meet
your eternal pain becoming a god.