Facing an
angry sun, clad in
a precious suit of
burnt skin.
As thoughts pass,
persona evanescent.
Wind dried and
dandelion seeded.
Life blows through
the where and by,
all free as zephyrs will.
Sultry summer time,
whose cool linen nights
may soon be denied,
by this gloom eternal.
Whilst two sided, the
damascene blade,
becomes sharp
as the cut it left behind.
Outside of our logic,
the anima crumbles.
From aeons now dust
under starlight’s bare feet.
©️ Dai Fry 12th December 2020.