Darkness for cure

All words crumble
playing warm the flute longer,
to breath ages inside; where
Nothing pierces more,
than the void; measuring
every tapering end of tears
cutting down in years

Nothing remains of the ‘Remain’.
All flock together:
The air, water and space;
to vamp the last rite

All friendliness sulk
the life’s momentary gain,
in whose accord
The temples, mosque and churches
blare their own finesse
knowing not, that
God trade this brittle trick

Nothing of my say here, but
a dangling darkness for cure:
A sledge passing
The galaxy whirl!

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