Cold night of destiny
From a life without a face.
Shroud of our wounds, it stifles
It is there, present
Watching our missteps
It moves silently
In the dark austere
Of no return ...
Death do us part,
We trace its path.
It is a freedom
Of no longer being tomorrow.

Gilles Barp

Gilles BARP, artiste expressionniste - +33 6 46 63 30 70 - gilles.barp.artiste@gmail.com 

  • Facebook - Grey Circle