Poezja

The search was absolute,
truth was not.
The shades of impermanence
and flowing emotions merged.
I stood between the reality
and tilting shadows of time zones.
The distance had created
metaphors and I was weary of pretentions.

The deep sorrow nurtured
a grain of truth
an essence of time.
Earth shuddered in the
process of integumentation.
I trampled on the grass
as if to find the ozone.
Impatience scattered the wings.
I smelled the stone.

Take me not to gloom of death,
the immeasurable pain
I will find the ultimate path.
It was not easy to uncondition the lips.
Mute genes had become my potency.
Unworded a voice rose in the east,
I squirmed.