Intriguing

The wind was black
and I wanted to make an eye contact
with the unknown.
Following the stars
in midnight-

there was something called
desire, in clean moon,
untying the knots-
in breast. The truth
was not in kernel,

it was in the flowing veins
of the leaves; sun, trapped
in green carbon. The-
wordless poem dousing
the fire between the cinders.

The cosmic door opens, shuts.
The bird song covers your tracks.