I saw the Moon in skinned out sky,
decapitated as a rooster,
it spattered light on clouds ply,
on ghostly clouds been roasted.
Prevailing, there's a pan of Earth,
and lightning produced its fire,
as genuine Moon’s crucifier
to which it nailed as to the cross.
The burst of flashes, vivid glinting -
they looked like sawdust of the stars
sawed up in debris, and the tinting
dwarfed the glory of the Mars.
And I got it - a new moon rising
to which the Earth and Sky gave birth;
and who’d been there the first,
God knew it better by His wising.
09.05.2019 г.