Shudder
Among the blooming jasmine
you have no shadow,
but breath,
which pulses.
The dusk is meek—
the dream of a child
fallen asleep by his dad
(after a long story)
the sound of arriving summer
in a winding seashell.
Hug your knees
and you will hear:
“The life given to us
we lived for different
reasons …”
And the sea stayed
in circles.
Sank in between
the matte stars
(in the marble).
We’re left with a long road
toward hope.
Shudder—
beyond.
Copyright © Bozhidar Pangelov | Year Posted 2016
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