21 december 2018
In Exile
With tall questions I am
alone, waiting for the
tomb robbers to come.
Truth was no more a religion.
You wanted to consecrate―
the illusion, sealed in myths.
A graffiti appears on the
waiting trees. Who put―
the curse on swaying blooms?
The dialect of the moon will
not listen to heart beats of sun.
The grammar was in primitive state.
Yes, the music of lake has
a meaning. The boat will carry
the wreaths for the wilting words.
27 february 2026
wiesiek
27 february 2026
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26 february 2026
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25 february 2026
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24 february 2026
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23 february 2026
Jaga
23 february 2026
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22 february 2026
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22 february 2026
jeśli tylko
21 february 2026
wiesiek