Justice

ages of love
have gone unnoticed
in the clamor and chaos of hatred

there are souls that mount their shadows
above those that shine truth
that it seems light is something always flickering in the distance
and the wings of darkness
harness
layers of the skin of love
burning and lashing away at it
hoping that it will never be blinded by it

but even in the deepest artichoke
there is a core
of nothingness
that no shadow or black fire can contain for destruction
it is the dream of an allegory
of forms
where the sun casts the shadows in bowing obedience to the edges of light
defining the sake of goodness
not the other way around

but dreams usually remain dreams
where you can muse about it with every sip of wine
until the bottle is empty
and sleep ushers you back into reality
of death