Three Moons - Minsk

Enticed by the myriad multiplicity

Entombed by our own disguise

We will dive into vast unknowns

An ember remains to unearth a hope

The undercurrent rises from the fading coals

Blown tethered cross the plain far from sanctuary’s gaze

In search of what could not be spoken

Scripted and gifted and parted

Amended forever’s lashed gnashing with vice

Laid open and undressed to none but my own prying eyes

Oh, master of nothing you slave to diatribe

Oh, master of no one you prey on your device

A cross section of crossroad hoisted high toward the sky

And life filled my nostrils as veins ran so dry

Dead to the world and dead in your eyes

Etchings interred as failure recurred

Desolate worlds fall to these endless nights