The stars seem to have gone out today,
The rivers seem to have gone silent,
with nothing to sing or say—
low waves trying to kiss the horizon.
The last sun rays
with the late cries of birds;
The young moon diminished by the hovering clouds;
The forever-known hands and voices
fading into the voidness of the forests—
And yet, the hopes will never diminish.
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A/N: We must never lose hope. So just hoping for a sweet vote from you as of now! :)
YOU ARE READING
the slow art of breathing bitter
Poesíaslow dancing love and pain in the midnight chorus of liquor-washed autumn green ... || a constellation of destructive poetry ||
