there are many of us
out there, hiding our wounds,
counting our blessings,
retracing our steps,
the world is caught
between opposing sides,
the maidens, aides of
the last aspirations
now concubines
as the last form
of defense
for
this hidden world of us,
no stars would show
in rivers and no moon
will have
two suitors at the
same time on
different places,
the last prince in
turmoil,
but there will be hope
and the words
of its own,
transcending
for the next
muse