Your world is filled with doubting letters,

They build the poems that you seek

To be your soul, blushing unique,

In pictures dark, one candle matters.

Your mind, an altar of white marble:

The angel carves black thoughts in it.

By nonsense - demons will outwit

With sensuality so subtle...

And you are dancing, silent dreaming,

Of every whisper sounding right.

A last message, to my delight:

The reader lost defines the meaning.

© 2010 Lith Ium

Monday, May 31, 2010