Poezja

Innocent inside the circle,
you reached nowhere.
Dirty hands on the knob
kept the century locked.

Carbon footprints were deepening
under the sun, blue bird
circling in vain. The jealous
moon exiled to black hole.

The dust of the brutal time
settles on the umbrella. I am shivering.
The lies, the religion, the horrible
facts smell of the million deaths.

Who mode the tapestry of violence
into boneless truth and hairless
legs of prayers? Freedom escapes
through the scrolls of flames.