the hunt



Went to those streets once known much to be owned
they took me in straits of hatred, trying hard to expel
as they stared crooked in several unbroken instalments
bashed with blown severities of the day’s axiom in place

 the downfall from hell deserves moment to be frozen

unwinding suffocated dna’s held curled in life prisons
the freeform lengths they run in wild river course of verses
swiftly decodes secret encrypts to let loose waves
that breathein airs of eternity, tastes ancient
love in rawness, dances tribal towards infinite convergence

pic link:
pic: The wild hunt: Åsgårdsreien (1872) by Peter Nicolai Arbo



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