Borce Panov

Rookie (27.09.1967 / Radovish, Republic of Macedonia)

Book Of Breathing - Poem by Borce Panov

if only could just to whisper tenderly,
so we could read from the lips
like from the lips of our precious God
and all vibrations in the air
to be his whisper,
so I may red and golden cherries
to graft on two branches of the same tree
and as one matures -
the other to bring fruit already,
and so, one with another
to be protected by the absurdity,
you- to fall asleep with me -
and me to wake up with you,
and when you dreaming
to be your punctuation
in yours book of breathing
and commas
between your sigh and your breath,
and three points when you will wake up,
so I can not even to breathe
out of that dream -
so happy
that neither the time
can not take you from me,
yet, it is good when could
to hear your own echo of breathing
for everything that was given to you
through all lives
and for all that which is taken away from you now -
filigree gently and precisely
as flutter in the air,
like reading a whisper
from the lips of our precious Father...

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, November 29, 2011

Poem Edited: Wednesday, December 7, 2011


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