Month: November 2015

you are my palette
let me paint you
so that scars
that you hate
are not visible any more

have we gone
too far away
from the horizon
where the meeting was due?

a flight
into the abyss
of silent whirlpool
has not
ended
i am still in the sky

i can not see through this hole
in a Paris window
why did they not see through
the glass
before hole had to be made
why should some agents of death appear to be better than others
are not all apostles of violence
to be shunned
or
are some destinies more dear to us
than others?

why should death
be celebrated by the flags bearers’ wishes
can we not pray
for all dead who have stood
in the way
of those who
see only black
and white
no matter, what shades of grey
say
why is there no respite

some cells lost their way
far away
on the way
to a sparkling sky
why has milky way developed cracks,
do they have storms
there
now, you are not here
though footsteps have become
flowerbeds
hope the aromas of flowers that bloom
next spring
and after that,
will embrace the misty morning
and tear drops
that fell down
on a dusty road
behind hillocks
trees
a small pool of water
river was also stunned
it forgot to flow