The ending of a season, a winter, frozen to the bones.
A thin curtain hides the world
outside the window, familiar, yet hard to guess what the day might have in store.
I have to watch the morning grow
from its slow awakening from slumber.
A disinfected, sanitized air, I cannot call it a scent, perfume or fragrance.
A meditative silence covers all
Prayers, pain, a submissive chant of pain,
a face of a haunting magnanimity,
curled up like a fist of endurance vaguely stirs in the mist,
waiting for the sunbeams to do their job.
A godly presence watches over all
the sorrows and the passing, melting
walls and borders.
I am a speck of dust
traveling upward,
a treacherous journey against the wind.
A thin curtain hides the world
outside the window, familiar, yet hard to guess what the day might have in store.
I have to watch the morning grow
from its slow awakening from slumber.
A disinfected, sanitized air, I cannot call it a scent, perfume or fragrance.
A meditative silence covers all
Prayers, pain, a submissive chant of pain,
a face of a haunting magnanimity,
curled up like a fist of endurance vaguely stirs in the mist,
waiting for the sunbeams to do their job.
A godly presence watches over all
the sorrows and the passing, melting
walls and borders.
I am a speck of dust
traveling upward,
a treacherous journey against the wind.
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