Deranged mess
Of sleepless crests
Upon a hill of descended hopes
Of crosses and lashes
A body broken
A mind not so broken
A poet shadows earth
Moon shadows him
Not a word
Not a scream
But so much hymn…
Smoke touches the zenith
The pack is running light
The lighter’s running low
“The kingdom fell”
He mumbles
Like anyone knows his meanings
Like the voyage…
Is not destined to have only one
Survive