Soulless

Even though I am locking the sky’s door

the fantasydream awakens me. How many 

images captivate me as I am unfolding the

 knot of light in my blind memories.

I welter alone, wander, my trip

dead, as I am fighting off in the shame. The verse is a

story, buried river, narration of years and then

soulless footprints. The chrysalis flies and the

gazes secretly talk, until the sound

of the bell of the intermission. A clash and

a note in front of Prodomos’ image,

touching the wings of the archangel, 

I long for the oblation, I don’t interpret

loneliness, I said so to my friend, the thoughts

are whispering, but I am walking. If I remain nostalgic

it’s so that I see laterna’s past, the soldiery and the sounds.

To exist to see the intangible, the soulless.

Fotios Panos