Poezja

You did not want to play― 
into the strength, 
of the other. 
 
Wrecking the pecking order, 
to become poorer, 
giving away your entire height? 
 
I could live, 
without your blasts, O sun, 
but I need my moon, 
for whole night. 
 
It pervades, 
the dark matter, in every pore. 
Like gingko tree 
I will drop all the pretentions 
tonight, and become leafless.