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Apr 2017
Faceless, I awaken.
beneath the stars
which the cold have taken.

Beneath a moonless
yet nicely painted sky,
to which I always call
with a silent cry.

Naked, yet embraced by wonder,
all life is a ceasless ponder.
An endless void leeching off the winter.
A golden twilight,
ethereal as a whisper.

An hourglass tis what I call,
you'll find it burst out of control.
Yet her past is all but veiled,
and the future she has compelled.
Within the reaches of your grasp
she'll never rest,
its solitude you will have to best.

Its torments,
they are yours to wear.
Its blessings,
they are yours to bear.
Boris Wonders
Written by
Boris Wonders
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