Anonymous Espials

3 am struck, it tolled, muffled as though it was breaking through the lining of the drenched tatters on the textile of the night

The stars, came ever closer, detached from their glow, they dolefully rivaled the glaze of an aphotic faience

They those, unnamed sprites of the sky, transient, they quickly crossed the pane of inexistent time, a Terpsichorean angel, shadow dances on laconic lines of the cornices…

--

--

Get the Medium app

A button that says 'Download on the App Store', and if clicked it will lead you to the iOS App store
A button that says 'Get it on, Google Play', and if clicked it will lead you to the Google Play store