Poetry

An ultimate lie becomes a reality in life, 
Like slit in the throat of a lamb in a meadow. 
 
A wounded ego scrambles 
for an explanation, 
which is not coming. 
 
Who can stop this verdict of a non-trial? 
The tragic nonending of a conflict 
between doubt and inherited faith? 
 
You search for a perfect rhythm in 
a turbulent crowd, 
search for a silence in a flaming torch, 
in the moment of truth, 
when an entity is disintegrating.