Invisible Twigs Poem by Gianni Pansensoy

No longer the howls of the
wild dogs break the silence,
bats of vampires' wings,
legends of gothic nightmares,
eternally are hidden in dead dungeons,
nothing prevails,
except the dominant night,
totally veiled in darkness,
curtained those invisible shapes.

Into her face made of fogs,
creeps the sharpest finger of the moon,
tearing its curtain apart,
these eyes saw terror,
terrified chiefly on denuded forest,
all the trees there in are stolen,
including the twigs that are seen no more,
everything is a barren desert,
totally naked from blood to soul,
it's a bone dry sand of deathly dunes,
deeply buried in a grave,
and is never coming back.