Harvest

Antibodies group as my third eye,
the second grave,
and the first whisper of boneless spirit.

It would be pessimistic to think
that your fingers will plunge within my veins again.
The ink keeps him alive,
my clone of words,
but, I developed immunity
within.

Rage is underwater hurricane,
its dreams are nuclear.

Ardent, without a reflection in the rain,
he tries to
discover the secret of music,
yet, somehow,
that question always was a temple.

Merged with the world,
the time separates wanderers.
Does he regret disharmony of the stars-
equipoise is severed as the strings,
however, notes will never be as tranquil as
the ones played on stone guitar.