Nostalgia Of World Poem by Maria Barbara Korynt

it is coming quietly on fingers
it isn't dancing at least a waltz
dimmed with dimness of the cloudy day
written down into the meant wheel of fortune
with memory of the passing time
corselette too firmly tied of the awareness
it is grinding down in a gyratory movement
with press studs of the conservatism
underlining the thin waist of changing fortunes
what determines next inevitable events
nostalgia of world running out of the orbit
past sprinkled with ashes
absolved with circulation of its aorta
it causes the self-annihilation
and the distraction
the grain to the new crop is slowly sprouting
buried into the dust of the cosmic thought
historical winds will carry
them around to the rich soil
it would survive the cataclysm
it will grow when a time comes