20 lutego 2020

poezja

Satish Verma
Satish Verma

Show Me Your Jewel Box

Not reaching somewhere,
I was not today,
what I was.
 
You seek a hand
for a handshake, and I watch
the dirt gathering
on the nails.
 
Sky does not give you
an award.The soot
collects on the windows.
 
The blue skulls dance
to defy the earth.No forehead
was formed.How would you
read the destiny?
 
I swear, I did not fathered
the deity in a-
monotheist gathering.
A black hijab covers
the moon.

Adam Pietras (Barry Kant)
20 lutego 2020 o 21:31

For me, as it differs a bit from exact sense, someone with dirt by the nails can have better understanig of human depths, even if he or she does not try to take it into language proposition. Once I heard a motto, that a simple man knows the same as the philosopher, but in different way. Ofcourse, it is some kind of sacral poetry - if we agree, that human's deepest self is sacred. That is a matter of belief, and not obviositiy, and that is the point of the innear fight, as I see it from Christian perspecitve. And at least this world is but a scene, where one realises his best - or worst - potency. PS: Our polish movement "Solidarność" was strongly about Ghadism, and I hontestly respect this way of thinking.

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Adam Pietras (Barry Kant)
20 lutego 2020 o 21:34

* Polish. Differences in grammar.

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