This Is Not the Silence

This is not the silence, but its void

Without memory, fixed in formalin.

Sea without shores and horizons

Wind dissolving dried up remains

Obscurity of visceral holes

Sinking into remote abysses

Fragments of a stigmatized soul

Defying the other side of destiny.

Iron force digging the heart pulp

Pure diamond shining in secret on the tame limit of

imploring blood

Game of deceit and illusions

Hand that raises the curtain

Every atom of air nourishing me.

Melting the unknown

Unleashing the black cloud of enigmas.

Don't close your eyes in the face of havoc

Cure the ill sprouts!

Blind universe, hollow in which we write what we have

done

We are programmed to believe in something we cannot see

Armed with instinct of escape and defence

The dead cannot lie

Azure bruise, embrace without possess of beauty.

Immense cruet of quartz, where gold and basalt merge in

primordial vibrations.

Savage dawn, blurry stars massacre

Arcane sky, spheres in shiver.

It is the power of magic radiating from us, exiling us.

Foster the comment of birds and nature

Energy and music of stones

The theorem of the devil rustles immortal luxury.

I am bloodless and now only dust can bloom in my veins

dry like brambles.

And now the wound is thirsty of another blade.