The Search

Mist

Mist curls through your thoughts—

blue light flickers on your face,

blinds still never drawn.

Government

Under marble domes,

polished shoes pass shuttered rooms—

a key turns once, stops.

Mastermind

Threads pulled in dim rooms,

ink dries on a borrowed name—

no face in the glass.

Origins

Before morning breaks,

dust turns in a single beam—

silence, unbroken.

Religion

Bell echo at dawn,

wax folds around a thin wick—

one shadow kneels long.

Moral Truth

Gravel road at dawn,

frost snaps under worn boot heels—

no sign—still you go.

The Christ

Sky dark at midday,

iron splits the lifted wood—

the veil, torn unseen.