Poezja

Finely tuned against destiny
the joystick is taken
and not a drop of sweat does appear
while mechanically he measures indicators,
 
do pull back further on the power lever,
with the jets buzzing louder,
energy making the engines tremble
and with the brakes off the aeroplane gets an own life
 
and against the blue elegance of the heavenly roof
it’s only him, near to the Creator
of the endlessness
while he does blindly make adjustments,
hang for moments in the height
 
and the sun catches his circling flight.