Tyrell Zozobrado Poems

With ease I lay.
On the horizon, I play.
Where doves beats crows.
Where no bogus shows.
...

Walk unrest.
At night they wander.
A crimson feast.
They kill. They slaughter.
...

Man's days are like those of a grass;
like a flower of the field he blossoms.
The wind sweeps over him and he is gone
and his place knows him no more.
...

When crickets croon the night,
Everyone can hear.
When the fur of the wilderness above wavers,
Everyone can see.
...

A light tap in my shoulder sends its warmth.
Just like the wood that crackles in the hearth.
My proud self gave in to its aroma.
...