#54 (after moonrise)



through a waking city

dew on the grass was

reflecting the sunlight

amplifying its gaze

young, old, tired, awake

while his breathe

fumed a constant trace

of white

all out of bread crumbs

 the quiet



the loud

replied in a whisper

“You’ll only waste it”

he stopped

at the crossroads

not able to choose

a side

after moonrise

everything was renewed

his worries, his doubts

but also the purest joy

of creating


solidified, once liquid


© Matthias Geh, 27th September 2018

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