Saw’raw Ger'stran

Dear stranger from Warsaw, Mazowieckie;

This is for you!

For the time you waste on my words,

And as for who you are...I have no clue,

But I trust that whoever you are - woman or man;

You find this letters of mine,

That I gather and throw aimlessly,

Ideas that sit quietly in line,

Waiting for people like you

To come and pick them up for what they are:

Attempted sights of the world by a left hand,

Depicted as stories and myths from afar

Of a place I discovered while searching for myself;

Or something, someone, to blame for a scarred heart,

Coz it's always easier to throw a blame

Than begin anew with a fresh start…

Next time you read what my fists write,

Do it with closed eyes and loud voice

For my words need your voiceprint

To rise high and the sky is their choice,

Shoot them up with the moon as your aim

Knowing that you'll never reach it...

By your own hand they'll drop among stars

And start shinning: word by word, bit by bit.

So every night from now on imagine the gates of the sky

Your personal playground in which you throw words aimlessly,

And collect celestial stories and myths, mine!

Hear them out and they'll whisper to you secrets gracefully.