by Dr. Andreas Georgallides

The moon a void-light
and my skies forgotten
silenced in the space of sound.
The birds’ voices
tell of the meeting
and the rustling leaves
invalidate the vast distances
I unfold irresolutely and ill-timed am still stalwart
not reckoning on time chattering to the winds.
As long as the leaves rustling
doesn’t become a racket,
I’ll listen.

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