Noiseless wrinkles <br />on our forehead <br />the frontiers of history, <br />shed oblique glances <br />at Homer’s verses. <br />Illusions <br />full of guilt <br />redeem <br />wounded whispers <br />that became echoes <br />in lighted caves <br />of the fools and the innocent.<br /><br />Dimitris P. Kraniotis<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/illusions/
