Poem 3 Poem by Aleksandra Szymanska

Let's tear the God made silhouette into pieces,
just to please our eyes with the wondrous view...
But the radiance is incomplete: what is missing?
There's an invisible hole - the painful truth...

And it breathes, expands, year by year,
and engulfs something you just don't want to taste...
We're protected by a cobweb, that's thinner than a hair -
its map is imprinted on an angel's face...

Can you touch that face, and turn it into a stone?
Go on, poke it now with your arrogant finger!
You won't even blink when all will be gone,
and your selfish name amongst ashes will linger...