Night tore off her amber rosary and sprinkled...the fields with them...
The wind buried them and took them as an intermediate coin for Hermes...may it be free...
But the day was still snuggled in the arms of Helios, and the amber did not wink a tiger's eye...

The moon was glaring behind...cloudy clouds...
All wise was three...like the third eye...
And in a world sunk in greed, and counting the grains of the birds...
Amber dreams...for sale...for something extra...
We sold ourselves...and we will not buy back...

Our tears will not become...banknotes..
.Our souls will
not become...eternal...or even avatar...
Selfish destinies without a spiritual guru…
They are a magnet...of future...of ..amber...undetectable...
© Lila-Lilitt