the last remnants of day,
to the unborn child,
unwanted, unnamed!
to the empty grave,
and the dirt praying
for the casket.
to the lover betrayed
by the fear to touch.
to the soul wrapped in cobwebs,
and the heart’s body
afraid to be naked.
to the unfulfilled,
the unspoken, and unclaimed.
to the bastard son
of the demon and the mortal.
to the holy infidel,
who tore off his collar.
to the unspoken prayer
of the farmer looking for rain.
to the cell and the gallows,
and the righteous fire.
to the truth written
in the hidden parts of the soul,
to the pilgrim who turned
from salvation to compassion.
and again to the night,
the long night of redemption.
without a trace of regret,
without holding back!