THE LINE

My memory has eyes,

so large... tremendous eyes ...

It’s bigger than a heart

in which my memory resides...

 

In every inconspicuous pulse

she interweaves her subtle wave

of sticky sadness

or sparkling gladness -

it depends...

 

Sometimes

she stands before my eyes

with outstretched her hands

like a poor beggar at the church,

and asks,

"Give me a penny, and I will merge

with nonexistence…”

 

My lucky penny �"

it’s my independence from her

inside my essence …

 

But no…that’s enough �"

I’ll let her go…

I will fence off �" without fear

I’ll outline the circle of the magic light,

obtained from a wise mirror…

 

The past road will remain

behind the line…

And from the center of the circle �"

pulsating flame of uncreated luminaire �"

a new road flows…

 

©Natalia Govsha