Mask

“a poem by Eleonora”

Love,
Innate subterfuge
Of one who dreams a dream,
Gloriously huge;
Who plunges in its stream,
And is but lost atop a sphere ungirt.
Hate,
Dire misanthrope
That hides itself in passion,
Narrow, frothing sea,
As endless a porrection
As dreams that should live on and age unhurt.

Poetry by Eleonora