With your feet in the mud

And your soul in the sky

Where are you?

I only wish

You have more strength

With every step you make upwards.

These silent screams

That make you wild,

Tell me about them.

Rain will fall.

Rain will wash.

Will we be?

What will you choose:

Run and forget yourself

Or stay and freeze to death?

How can one keep being the light

When for the filth one gets reward?

Anxiety, sadness, anguish,

Pain and suffering.

Is there a language without these words?

In a garden with spikes instead of trees,

And burning coals instead of paths

We try to learn to fly.

With frosty hands,

Kill those ideas

That sprouted as weeds.

Looking at those giants

Have you ever thought

That the world, for you, is bigger?

If the Sun goes right through you,

What will reflect it on the Earth?

Stones and dead bodies,

Rotten leaves and fire.

All this for us

To live.

A golden leaf

In the rain of the Sun

Is falling to cover your grief.

On an early autumn day,

When the Sun is the most golden,

I look how everything is

Celebrating.

We’re insects at the poplars’ feet.

We are the flame that’s everywhere, all over.

We’re mechanisms echoing.

We.

There, inside, by a lonely window,

What do you do?

Do you know

You can look out?

Why is it like that,

That you need to see to believe?

Maybe it’s you who’s blind?

The blood waits on the ground.

The Sun is ready to fall.

Only needles keep staying in crowns.

Autumn in a golden dress

Is breathing

With chilly wind.

Rivers, having scattered all over,

Look for one thing only –

A place where they can give their waters.

How far do you think

You can run from eternity

When eternity is all that exists?

There was a tower

Shooting up

That only aimed

To reach the skies.

Fog, I’m waiting

For you to come and

Dissolve and devour

Everything, everyone…

Go along the Moon path,

Find your inner wolf.

Whenever I listen to music

I find myself

Dancing with space.

Where life is dotted with thorns,

There is pain, fear and beauty,

But is there any peace?

Warm, dark waters

Washed coasts made of bones,

Dissolving the remnants of life

In order to make a new soil.

Why is an open heart

Giving people love

Filled by them with trash?

Look, they’re glowing.

Their thoughts have become ashes.

Their souls are sparks.

Love.

Just love.

Love no matter what.

His way was fire.

Her way was air.

He lived because of her.

If you touch the Sun,

Will you get burnt

Or become the Sun?

Human breathing

Was so heavy

That it drifted over the ground

And became so viscous,

And their way was slow.

Yellowish shadow of concrete pillars,

The shine of black sky reflecting in puddles.

It’s not even evening yet.

Love.

It never ends.

You can just refuse it.

Conscience

Is a rule too.

Hard is the way of true love.

Fire will devour

People, their hearts, the Earth,

But it can’t devour light.

Everything is closer.

Lines are softer.

That is snow.

Thin black lines

Spread on the canvas

Once grey as humanity,

Then blue as breathing.

What does the winter write about?

Bright skies or dark skies.

Does it really matter?

When, having made a circle,

They remain equal.

Drops on woody fingers.

Too little space for water.

Unusually warm time.

Can you just be?

Without playing smart and adult?

Just be.

Close your eyes.

Within the confines of four walls

Perceive the cold of wind.

So hard, so hard it is

These days

To find a bright soul.

One candle in dozens of eyes

Become dozens of candles.

With that, is there more light?

You say, denying miracles

We become adults.

I say, denying miracles

We lose life.

We try to reach the skies

While they start at our feet.

Is growth possible

Without anything being added?

Look at the world.

Why did you infer

That all this is normal?

How could one prove

That what the majority sees is the truth?

Is it quantity that defines what is true?

They were locked within four walls.

There was a chance to reflect on all.

Then they came out…

In the world of crazy people

A wise one is crazy.

Are you sure

You are real?

Birds are singing

And oceans are clean –

People are dead.

If they don’t scream

That doesn’t mean

They feel no pain.

Sometimes the ugliness of some

Is a mirror for others.

Heavens greeted them,

But people kept running by

To argue again about something

To someone.

When a vast mind is stealing your freedom,

And the one who’s “outdated”

Heals with love,

Have a think, what makes people people?

A new day came,

And where buds were

Now leaves opened.

One day a morning wind

Will wake you once and for all.

Fly away, little soul.

You’ll find yourself a place

Where you’ll get free.

The lantern light

Isn’t brighter than the sun-light,

But does that mean

It doesn’t light the way?

One was happy,

The other one was smart.

The third one was non-existent.

Look at the tree.

Is it deprived of harmony and life

If it does not rush forward?

White nights

And warm days.

North is wonder.

Trying to fight atrocity

With more atrocity

Paired by ignorance,

You do nothing but multiply pain.

Love is what really heals.

Silence has more value

Than a thousand words of fight.

To change the world

Try being the light,

Not choosing sides to fight for,

As they’re all dark.

The world is not

What it seems to be.

Where people see great fear and evil,

In fact, there is just peace and depth.

Maybe rationality is just an infection

Aimed at the system’s stability?

Inspired by Ray Bradbury, Nordic, Celtic, and English folklore, Latin American authors and all those who see magic in daily life. With a touch of philosophy and symbolism.

Peter Gončar is an author and poet, a member of Krakow Writers’ Group, and a winner of an international writing competition “The Book of Recipes for Happiness”. He is the author of books for adults and children in the genres of magical realism and fantasy.

www.petergoncar.com

www.facebook.com/peter.s.goncar

www.instagram.com/peter.goncar

peter@petergoncar.com

© Peter Gončar, 2021