Страница 4 из 16
Desire.
Don't worship the sun, for she envies you,
Naked and alone in dark, cold mire.
Don't bow to trees, for they ache
To walk the clay and escape unholy fire.
Don't wish to be birds who have no roofs
Over their heads and search until they die.
Don't seek to be my bride,
Because my treasure never leaves my house
Don't ask for truth human,
When you love living a lie.
Uzithepoet