In nomine patris…

An angel once told me,
that castles of sand never die;
each grain’s being washed ashore
other isles,
carrying whispers of hands
having caressed breasts of lovers
long gone…
You king’s lusting lips cannot
condemn you Esther…
His tongue’s still tasting
sweet nectars, drops of gold,
diamonds of your passion’s
unforbidden fruit…
One day, when hidden monsters
shall arise of bottomless horizons,
and northern lights
shall cover eyes of fallen saints,
kings of old and others,
will have forgotten every pain,
each scream of maiden mothers
refused by never fathered christs…

The leaving angel left behind himself,
the sandless  abys,
and passed the key to starving,
restless human minds…