The Shore of Transcendence - Minsk

Through the waxing through the waning

Amidst blackness a spark emerged

And we heaved death’s branches upon the skyward flames

A haunting memory left as bile on the sand

Feeding this fire on shores of desire this blissful painful night

Winter’s fangs may find me again but it won’t be tonight

Illusion and shame will haunt me again but it won’t be tonight

We will meet at mornings early slain by grievance shore

And crowned and crucified as the sea calls once more

Alive in the tide from whence the wind came

And crowned and crucified and stretched by shelter’s grave