Poezja

A fear stalks you
in the dead city of broken paths.

If god wills.
Listening to truth in golden dawn
you become a stranger.

Where you want to stand
between far-right
and far-left?

I relapse into grief.
Who was not a god….?

Between you and me
what was missing?

Brotherhood?

The silence was heavily
pregnant. No one speaks.

Give me a chance
to look at me.