By Lilian Negoi

It is always darkest just before the Day dawneth.

— Thomas Fuller

Nude pearls constellating,
jade green blade fingers
drop in slow motion
on the bosom of muddy scented gloom
fringed with silence.
Melting shards of yesterday’s perfume
encrust the darkness
jeweled already with
memories of tomorrow
and sand stills for a moment,
expecting the already known –
you see,
earth needs no religion
for trusting in the recurrence of
sol invictus.


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