Walk like me
on burning coals.
You will taste a moon.
A misty link
of inner planet, flaunts
the projectile, going straight
for the sun.
So you believe in
incredible rebirth of darkness
after full moon?
No standoff of this kind
will continue, if the
nightingale returns unveiled.
Infantile ache
spurs again the honeysuckle.
It was red sky after
the sunset.
Pray not crunch
with muffled scream.
There was a rose without thorns.
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