Atropos

The bows’ string is loosed
The swords’ thread snaps
The wingless bird lands

– screeching –

Harbinger of  the rain,

Twisting, writhing from pain.

Graves of dreamers forever left aspiring

A shrilling cacophony of nothing.

what a shame!

Admiring

the

luminous

                      fungibane

from afar,

I blow my nose in their name.

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