Galilee

Israeli woman from a past year, me and her sharing wine.
Lost all hope for a resurrection, a saving grace, from Galilee.
Just drink our wine, and hold close, as the sea eats up the sun.
There’s no comfort left in the stars, no kisses sent by the moon.
 No rocks or bread, no devil to tempt us, just the foolishness of hope.
We lay together, look at night sky, the one and only miracle of light.
We make love in the depths of the darkness, to sweeten our death.
One flesh, but no spirit is kindled, the seed falls onto the hard ground.
 And morning come, will come when all is barren from man’s infernal fire.
The sun mocks us, offers a cruel hope, a sanctimonious reason for living.
We are naked in the last shred of soft darkness, of cool and empty delight.
The sun on our skins is warm, but touch leaves no traces, only ugly scars.

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