C₇
Blindead, Patryk Zwoliński
Selfishly
Never did we mention
Theirs names
Our names
Lost in the image
Born of reflections
Of our prolific
Imagination
Convulsing with shivers
With a single touch of the brush
We quivered
Never knowing why...
We
Dying for sheer simplicity
We
Searching for own eyes in the dark
We
We longed for solitude like for the light
Like for the labyrinth of dusty paths for cat's endless meandering...
We lost the sense of place and time
And the stars of our fate in the sky died out