The Newly Rised

Written by: Bozhidar Pangelov

Yes, everything here changes.
Again the wheel is turning
wresting with iron fingers
out of my heart steaming blood.
But You, I will not sell You
for thirty silver coins.
The dead ones do not change
neither do the not born,
the newly risen don’t – do not change!
May the changing ones eat
the dust of days, in order to survive.
After Fridays Good,
I know,
The Sundays rise!