My drawing with ink
Not Crystal one, not Mayan or Aztec
origins.
I drew it with ink.
He’s staring in my soul, as if asking
for the candy,
a special one, ‘Monpasie’, (called in a
honor
of the Duchess of Montpensier, for the novels
of Duma); we
enjoyed them while were watching
cartoons in a little movie theatre, not knowing
that
sweets – harmful… though we never could overeat…
Resting skull! As if it able to do
something else…
what if it could...
In the cell’s memory black ink
attack…blows…
Ammunition has arrived, a train after
train.
This is not within his power to stop
them,
to pretend – no reason to fight… .
He stands tall to deliver, to hold, to
support
the ordnance until everything...
slows... down,
sounds – not real, like in the silent
movie...
a sudden explOsion…
echoing
voice of commander:
“Lie down!”
As if into invisible wall, bombshell
dust,
stirred with a fright, - forever
absorbed through
skin pores...
Eyes’ sockets, have known hot tears,
injustice,
fullness of feelings, cooled down and
dried,
seem found long-awaited peace, and only the
string of sleighs with kids enlivens their ghostly
soaring, reflected in the crystal ball of time.
string of sleighs with kids enlivens their ghostly
soaring, reflected in the crystal ball of time.
Time – squeezed etheric essence, impales
millennium matrix. Sometimes trapped in hard
to
crack small candy, it’s
slowly dissolving in
the cauldron of reality…
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Inspired by Theme Thursday, dedicated to the memory of my father...
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