The Lilies

The lilies are gone, broken wings

either shutters zap the turmoil

and sing

for once, the razor

has cut a line inside

- meanwhile -

the lilies

anguish their dulcet sap

like name, drop, dye

of whom and why

does the form – sublime

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regret its loss

The lilies are a sentence of pity

a hole dug in the universe

sucking your eyes along with

mine and conscious matter evolving to

freedom

tonight, somewhere

along the crescent moon and the river

the stars resembled

the lilies.

© 2015, José Coelho