Untitled Poem 4

The bird sang silence
In a courtyard years overgrown
The sun never rose

The sky a silver mirror
Reflecting the obscurity
Of years without purity

A stiff wind rattles
The rusted shackles attached to our wrists
We stare at the cave’s wall

The sun never rose
As the puppeteers play
Shadows our Forms

The bird’s flute silenced
We remain shackled
A shadow’s length removed from truth

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