The King Of Heaven Poem by Borce Panov

The King Of Heaven

On the North, the King of Heaven
Is that because the rafter was too short
And broke the prayer
The rafter that holds spheres
On which lived your spirit
No, King of the Heaven
The calligrapher’s hand didn’t make a mistake
Or the eyelids, conceived in sin, gave a birth to note
That there is no a single place in Your home anymore
Why, why, the King
Of Heaven, Who fulfills everything on this world
On the rafter didn’t fulfill your self
Even prayer you did not finish off
On the North
The King of Heaven
In the North flash
Why do you, with heaviness of your spoken word
Out of the time
Temporal being made of me
The time lost
Common, from this tin trumpet
Call the fire
That blossoms the branches through my skeleton
While golden angel flies into my meat
The King
Haay, the King of Heaven
Crack Heaven’s egg
Come on, come on pigeon
Fly out, fly out from the rafter
The light is light as heaven’s song

Borce Panov