Poezja

The fantasy: 
of moving in a circle, 
taking a flower bath. A metaphysical 
misquote. You were losing 
your identity. 
 
There was no abstract folly. 
I will protect all the concrete truths. 
 
To find a lover in the woods. 
 
Fighting my demons 
I start a circuitry of unborn vows. 
 
The onslaughts continue. 
Night comes with all its glory 
to torment me, in absence of moon.