Teardrops from the sol
Sinking from above
Giving ecstasy to the cerulean speculum
While the moon is stagnant
On the back of melancholy dunes.

Quasar greets pretentiously
Bowing before your very eye
Uttering with a cotton mouth
Stealing the charm of the beloved pearls
On the neck of the glamour queen.

The priest with eyes closed
Beat the sinners in front of the altar
While shouting the untamed words
Coming from the wind’s whispers
Echoing on the whole cathedral.