Poezja

Like a falcon
you dive with a notched nose.
There was an element
of absurd in your style.

Crushed under snow,
I would search my lost
shoes. The spirit to move on
wakes me up again.

The pursuit of perfect
truth in jungle of fake
excuses. I was wary
of animal grins.

Thugs, they have become
the stewards. Life was mystery.
Death sorts out the secret
of undying passions.