Deed Of Wind

At night, the moon unfurls nude,

However, the ambient dark side is crawling besides. 

In the meantime all the clichés broke the ribs of faith.

But the river flows alone,

Where there are no tales of solitudes.

Only such false sagas veiled the human hearts, 

You are writing stories behind the paleness of the night.

That's the parallel between me and my journey's end.

The indenture of a break.