Poezja

Blowing up a no-show
you walk out of
procession of primates.

Moon and memories
and million of years
to become a full being.

Cognition gained,
I touch the raw nerves
of liquid stones.

Roasted nuts,
I will taste you,
once I revise my vocabulary.

The laced stars,
one on one, I meet
the dark holes of your galaxy.

O god, at equal. I will
call you one day to
climb down from my shoulder.

Every age wipes out the footprints.