Cynic

Awake in Dark

Cynic


In the night, in the flames 
wind lifted the dust in clouds
in the desert, in the dry, sun sits so high.

In a clear shade of dark
of the trees in down below
the wind rising from north
and the storms awakes in dark.

Riding with mist of sky
calling the winter of darkness
alone with eternal dream
before the breaking of the rain.

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