Poezja

A shirtless detachment, 
will speak 
for the dead, 
attaining peace! 
 
* 
 
Knowing oneself, 
I was told, 
was a very ardent 
effort. I don’t know. 
 
* 
 
Disconcerted, 
I float the words, on 
lake. One day they 
will reach you without rhyme.