with the taste of the cry and the lament,
and the tear from eyes with rusty cheeks, a sign.
I am the end goal,
scattered by the winds of bewilderment…
and I am divided
on the faces of weeping… an address.
I am a human,
born of time and wind,
a pain that braids thorns
between the first steps of the soul.
I am the one bleeding,
fields of truth on my forehead
leading me
to blood-poems that ache,
and they don’t return.
Letters of embers brand me.
The seeds of the dream in my veins,
a choked hope.
I am the hanged one,
and the ropes of death blindfold me.
I surrender all my flags.
I am the Coming One.
Nov 16, 2025
Nov 16, 2025 at 4:37 PM UTC
with the taste of the cry and the lament,
and the tear from eyes with rusty cheeks, a sign.
I am the end goal,
scattered by the winds of bewilderment…
and I am divided
on the faces of weeping… an address.
I am a human,
born of time and wind,
a pain that braids thorns
between the first steps of the soul.
I am the one bleeding,
fields of truth on my forehead
leading me
to blood-poems that ache,
and they don’t return.
Letters of embers brand me.
The seeds of the dream in my veins,
a choked hope.
I am the hanged one,
and the ropes of death blindfold me.
I surrender all my flags.
I am the Coming One.
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