Poezja

Space has all the silent approval, 
truth will not multiply. 
 
Another funeral takes place 
in the barren field of lies. 
Fire burns the life’s hopes, 
while town mourns the death. 
Sunshine bakes the eyes 
but truth will not multiply. 
 
Desireless peak of thoughts 
sets out the smoke, 
towards our homes, 
trampling the shame, guilt and hurts. 
We were still indulging in useless talk 
but truth will not multiply. 
 
Virtue has a unique impulse 
a drone in the ears. 
Fog was waiting for the sky. 
The planet empties a bucket of sorrow. 
I will favour the faceless name, 
but truth will not multiply.