Poezja

Set free the water―
do not harm the spring.
A short poem will write your
theme in air, without asking.

The unbaked bread
will feed the oven.
And the silent prayers
will seal the lips.

The bride of desert―
weeps. No palms, no ariels.
You run over the ruins
to find the tools.

Now breathing stops. A
hammer strikes.

It was the tragedy
of a brainless tumor.
Aneurysm brings the stroke.