Choice was washing the guilt or keeping mind shut.
Microscopic deterioration in the brain had set in.
The monologue of humility was not relevant for the flame ritual.
They said the death was a drop of wine.
Immoral alchemy had broken the enormous myth.
The electrons went crazy, they orbited like hungry eagles.
Truth was never the same.
Fading age wears new wrinkles,
black on black rose praises the air.
The return of grief was very evident.
Eyes blinked endlessly,
I too lifted the pleated pain.
Enzyme of new creation was worthless.
We were walking into an epic,
oscillating between two centuries.