Максим Грек

 


So wild, 

This thing.

So brazen and untamed, 

My breath hitched, 

And went away altogether. 


Replacing all insecurity with

Stones the shape of your hands.


So wild, this thing.

So solid and sure,

Chinks in my armor are kintsugi'd by gold. 


Tracing every scar, every battle,

Revelling in the dance victory cannot even compare to. 


So wild, this thing. 

So much like a storm the size of its own eye,

Gazing at me from the universe of your words,

And whispering, "No. You may not go."

And went away altogether. Rmay not go."

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