Sentenced. Shadows Of The Past. Wings. Zeneszám

The shadow of wind
flees to pain to reality
The breath of night
now disappears to distance

On the margin of emptiness...
...streams pour through an altar!
The stars blasted into darkness...
...changing scents, colours!

The sleepless face...
sterilized by drops of pain...
Skies, mirrors, screams...
shapes foundering into the scene

Beyond my eyes
Beyond my words
Echoes of empty promises
The touch of conclusion

Eager to see...
Eager to show those who see!
No-one answers, no-one is
Leave me here!