The Church of the Eyes

The church of the eyes By Fatmir Terziu Those just out of the egg, The confused yellowings Open their wings, take an unreasoned stance, Only their mothers understand them. They open their light wings Over fleshy bodies, carefully breathing. Pressed against the blossoming buds, The rose petals Guarded by the thorns. The aroma of the flowers, the varied colours, everything Embraces the reason of love in the church of the eyes; the prayers have started. In the garden, the last preparations are performed By all the living things, It is the time of multiplications And love has raised its head. Over newly blossomed roses Where the buds shade the egg hatchlings A snake slithers towards the nest Aiming to end the newly born dreams. The thorns are privy to the wrath of the sun, Bringing from above the whole curse of the sky. The feast restarts soon, When the snake fleetingly burns in flame.