a beautiful dream, slowly dying
The earth wept for no reason
under a soft articulate noise
of auctioned lives,
a beautiful dream, slowly dying.
Rottenness seeks in the soul
righteous prey,
grown from pure moments
in which the whiteness of thought
nurtures the hope of cleanliness
away from the smell own rot,
inherited from primary birth.
I feel the path in the whites of my eyes
through the chain of peoplecrucified
only for the future millennia.
We collect the rusty nails with tears
let's stick them on the sky.
Through the ancestral valleys
the blood of the crusaders flows,
furrowing the carapace of faith
to destruction.
One earth,
one history,
hangs like a ripe fruit
in the grown tree
from the heart of the universe
ready to taste the putrefaction.
On another branch
a flower opens
in the prehistory of another fruit.
The earth wept for no reason
under a soft articulate noise
of auctioned lives,
a beautiful dream, slowly dying
Copyright © Silviu Craciunas | Year Posted 2025
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