Poezja

A hand wipes away the dried tears, 
chemistry working. 
Somebody puts a hand on the globe, 
gives a strong twist. 
Flesh helps to forget the agony. 
I squeeze the heart, 
smell of pain wafting through the pores. 
 
Despair and solitude maintained contact with me 
I go blank, cease thinking, 
graze melancholy. 
Listen to humming of bees in the ears. 
Scrawl a note on existence, 
of a dropp which started an avalanche. 
 
Talking of sensual divinity 
and neutral attachment 
a river moves on bald terrain. 
Somewhere the water in the eyes dries up. 
The salt remains, burns the cold prayers. 
The hawks move in a swift dive.