Poezja

Outgunned by life, you escape 
to epipheny. The inner─ 
 
voice had betrayed. Are you 
ready to meet the believer? 
 
Sad ending of mithridatism─ 
in the wake of realization. 
 
The growing clout of pink petals 
was overwhelming the dust. 
 
The leaf body mimics the 
rocks. From the rear ocean 
 
a wailing picks up the blackberries. 
I was ready for the final assault. 
 
Predawn blitzkrieg begins. 
You start picking the apples from 
 
the green eyes. The truth─ 
was never so near to moon.