Lockdown Exulansis

The smallness of the evening
Gives new beatings
In my heart.

Ding-dongs
In the color of the falling night
Dynastic stars support
The sky like so many
Miniature Atlases

I need a bigger one
To hold the
Heavy empty void
Of the soul

I lay myself
To sleep in the arms
Of snow living suns

They can never melt

They keep me going
Like flames
In the blue glass.
Thaw it and
Wisely return to fire….

Some time ago, Exulansis prompted me to start writing and to have penned a place of my own making. Nevertheless, some words are so expensive that we are better left with them unspoken or write them with the ink of a Ghost.

Harald Slott-Møller