Somewhere in Their Midst
- Ata Zargarof
- Dec 8, 2016
- 1 min read
Flush of the Sky,
in rain is sought
temporal melodies,
the Earth
surpass redemption in the dawn.
Mellow blue of dusk,
its emptied quality,
tired-weight appearance,
forlorn in leaving.
Somewhere in their midst,
I blink and rage,
my lost contour a fog,
decision of a ghost
to attempt to be seen, perhaps
to be believed.
12/03/2016
Richmond
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