For whoever is lonely there is a tavern.
For whoever is lonely there is a tavern.
Silently, God opens his golden eyes over the place of skulls.
The blue of my eyes is extinguished in this night, the red gold of my heart.
The near stillness recalls what is forgotten, extinct angels.
Earlier lives drift by on silver soles, and the shadows of the damned descend into these sighing waters.
Black frost. The ground is hard, the air tastes bitter. Your stars cluster in evil signs.
Frost and smoke. A white shirt of stars burns your worn-out shoulders, and God's vultures tear at your metallic heart.
Despair, night in the grieving senses.
The guilt of newborns is immense.
When we are thirsty, we drink the white waters of the pool, the sweetness of our mournful childhood.
Shuddering under the autumn stars, each year, the head sinks lower and lower.
I drank the silence of God from a spring in the woods.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories