Max Fomitchev-Zamilov | Poetry and Prose

Максим Фомичёв-Замилов | Поэзия и проза

Today I passed through the needle’s eye,
a camel stripped of every load,
the desert’s gold and pride let go,
till only breath and heartbeat showed.

I shed the cloaks of yesterday—
regret, resentment, rusted chains—
they fell like scales from blinded sight
and scattered on the desert plains.

Emerging naked, raw, and light,
I felt the dawn remake my skin;
no baggage left to name or claim,
only the pulse of now within.

Then came the thread of molten gold,
spun from the fire I once denied—
it kissed my palms, it wove my bones,
and stitched the stars to either side.

Through fabric vast of space and time
I pull this gleaming, living strand;
each tug a choice, each loop a vow,
each knot a world held in my hand.

Galaxies bloom where stitches meet,
nebula silk in crimson, blue;
comets trail the glinting seam
that once was only me and you.

I am the loom, I am the weft,
I am the pattern yet unseen—
a tapestry of fierce delight
where every tear becomes a sheen.

So fear no narrowing gate ahead;
the eye that shrinks will set you free.
Pass through, beloved, unafraid—
and weave your boundless destiny.

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