The cracks, the cracks are there,

at the death of each day, 

at the rise of lightened sky,

in the full moon beaming out

the lonely call of night.

 

The cracks, the cracks are formed 

and they are deep as deep itself,

as deep as love is felt in the darkness 

of the loss and the shadows that 

cross and cross the sleeping weeping land.

 

7/9/2019