Poezja

”In the universe, there are things that are known, and things that are unknown, and in between, there are doors.”
William Blake

There are doors
the white doors next to which
flowers don’t grow 
nor butterflies fly
 
when opening
– they are being opened and speak up
 
the old high double-wing doors
placed in the infinite
space of the Universe
here among the yellow walls
of the prewar flat
they stand in a silent speech
 
they don’t evoke aesthetic feelings
rather they create a metaphysical silence
when I stand in front to
look and listen
 
then I am going through
and I eat an apple
 
there are the doors which
I am passing through
there is myself and the taste of a fruit
 
there is He who Is


 
                                 1983