The noise
tore the quiet
as if the night
were made of paper.
Out of
the torn sound
an owl emerged
with a little creature
still struggling
in its talons.
The moon now
blindfolded by clouds
as if she were
Justice herself.
The dark
flooded back
ruthlessly whispering
“You didn’t see that! '
A little stream
gurgled unseen
as if it was been
strangled.
The night had lost
its romance.
Death echoing
like our footsteps
in the... stillness.
...as if the night were made of paper... one can almost hear this noise of the night... it becomes almost palpable - a wonderful comparison, i like all the illuminated details of this dark night
Wow, sometimes the things we think we see in darkness are more terrifying than those seen by full light of day.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I found here again the telltale feather from the 'wings of desire' :) the angel has been here :)