By Pawel Markiewicz

 

Weird of the dreams

there are finitely October-ides

meek shooting stars – the friends of nighttime

have fallen afore

the visit of the

morning star – the boon Venus

I was able to feel their

eyesome miraculous silence

a dreamier eviternity

belongs to me

I can think of its waking dreams

about the Golden Fleece from

a mermaid’s legend

about muse-like feast from

the fairy-like myths

or Cranes of Ibycus from

the a pixie-like poesy

I am inflaming a fireling

October’s marvelous sparkle

as If each glimmerlet was

from the tender sempiternity

the dawn has left us

the sidekick sun and van-tenderness

of me poetries for

the dreaming heart

dream and

philosophize about

the druidical fire

my little glimmer

is such a druidical-being

I need a peace and lovely water-bow

for the beloved homeland

my daydreams are born from

magnificent dew

decorated with the

enchanted autumn

as well as with

a fantasy-weird of

the winged metaphysic

fulfilled in some after-glow

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