Poezja

Do not unveil the
wound of errors.
Let me in―
in your green eyes, where
the goddess weeps.

The terror changes
the polarity. You were in chains,
fighting the demons of sea.
Unlike moon, a star
plunges in valley of tears.

Who will measure
the depth of fall, from the
edge of life? Time has the
wings of golden eagle. It
flies on the peaks of thoughts.

And the merciless
gray of dementia wipes
out the words.