World of salt masks
shrouded in the fog of atrocities
do not touch me with your hands
stained with blood and greedy deception.
I want to escape, fly far
away
from your filthy life,
a canvas woven with sordid plots,
cries of power and arrogance,
of revenge against those who know
and do not share.
They are rare flowers that bloomed without your knowledge
grown from the roots of your cruelties
living unseen.
Their delicate petals are butterfly wings,
steel when they open
like shields of mythological heroes
to protect your victims.
For centuries I have shouted at you.
Unheard, today I prefer to remain silent
to flee, to fly far away, free
like an eagle, master
of the immense, silent sky.
He too is silent
and suffers like me.
Silent and suffering
is the only way to protect
your flowers, your victims,
their moral integrity,
nourished by a love longing
for embraces and long-awaited miracles.
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In a Love World 