Yesterday's eye-red was but a phase
Having lost the moonlight all the way
Behind large doors and khaki authority
(When we pray in marble mosques
We tend to get killed on Fridays
Because beauty does not really matter
But only the blood-red duty-call)
In the end we see where the king went
In the cold cellar,past earthly beauty
The priest's God-call pierced the vault
As beauty is not truth,only coldness.
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The ultimate poem
6 months ago
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