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Minsk
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Consumed By Horizons Of Fire
A storm beyond what eyes can see but read my palm till the end.
Deafening smoldered persistence a rift never destined for mend.
A somber lament insignificance.
Lines traced in your eyes no repent.
Horizons of fire dance with gypsy intent.
Lustfully wisdom blankets our eyes.
Hypnotized by fires inside.
A Vessel unearthed and burning and learning to burn alive.
A sway of hand has taken our sight.
Tint of drum hint of light.
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