Poezja

Then, the sky is drawn.
Like a curtain
That baffles the stars.
 
We hear not the lies
Spurt from the mouth
Of an uncouth death.

But lest, could not have known
That the most unlikely can
Find ways to torment those who know naught.
 
And when we do find the fly caught
Entangled in webs forbidden and unknown,
Leap, and strangle it, in depths of the slain.

Led by emotions that keep us,
As it may been for years,
Who can know when to strangle
 
When know not one who can tangle
With blackness, nor with whiteness,
For those who can have long abandoned their causes.
 
Fear the stars, my loved one.
They scatter so far, but dangerous still, they are.
And we should not let our guards down.

One mis'step, and the drapes will close down.