Blurry images,
in the kaleidoscope,
between the lines,
at the final point.
Between images,
there are memories,
misty clouds.
Revelations,
in the apocalypse.
In the circle,
that closes,
in that whirl,
that stirs,
my storms.
In the stillness,
of reaching the end,
little by little,
toward the destiny,
of being nothing.
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https://note.com/moral_yarrow5650/n/n7e1996c0afe3?app_launch=false
-
Author:
Carlos Alberto BUSTILLOS (
Offline) - Published: February 1st, 2026 07:23
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 6
Offline)
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