Nestling in the arms of
blue sky, a young moon was asking
the questions-like the pages of moth-eaten
book- why did the blood ties
are ripped apart with the passage of time?
Of the same poles, at the
axis of rotation- two celestial bodies-
would not come near each other?
Following the heels of the
hunter, a small dog star sniffs at
the earth, a pale blue existence?
The entropion overwhelms. The
lashes were scarring the
vision?
The all was not one. I am
still standing at the gate,
bleeding like sun.
