23 December 2012
Run down these ocean concave aisles,
Scream to the salt in the irises of eyes,
I was just a bird for a few
Fleeting beautiful moments
When the ones of my origin
Came across like I was sin.
These glaciers are just moving
To the beat of unending loss.
I should have flown
When I had that golden chance.
My wings molted again an again,
Now these oceans are closing in.
I have no hope.
Serenity? • Opuss № I