Aged Mirrors (99) Poem by Raquel Angel Nagler
Aged Mirrors (99)
The end of the voyage.
We return to our body,
To our solitude
Although they never really left us.
Slowly, gradually:
So little blood in our gaze.
Our eyes see
Without bleeding anymore.
Hours made of dusk.
We realize our little days
Are the only religion left.
The one that survived
The avalanche of the gods.
---
From Aged Mirrors - trilogyofthemirrors.com
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8/13/2026 12:52:43 AM # rel_20260811T123139Z_a98d49b
