the goddess Night

having taken all the light

is whispering: "do sleep!",

and I

am writing a poem

to be an active poet

already tasting the state

of being famous at the Powerpoetry,

not to be late

to accept condescendingly

the diplomas and the orders

recording 

the Annals of the Days...

no! wait! 

should I join my bed?

my flower-pet

needs water to talk to the Night

asking Her to be good to me, the versomaker,

baking

the Fate of Tomorrow

in the Air of the night

according to the Planet's Rite.

Ivan Petryshyn