by Christos Polydorou

Belief is the belief.
That worlds can change.

Seas parted and towers died young.
We needed proof.

In mystery.
Trust, in the unknown,

not fear in it,
that we will remain kids,
illuminated from within and without,

throughout. Everything is so far away.
There’s nothing here.
Tell a lie,

to allow the truth,
to reappear,
my dear,

I saved you pears. All things terrible.
To all that is insurmountable.
There will be a swell,

and here it is,
rising us out of the sea,
into the Sarajevo sky,

like wooden figures
in early paintings
coming, even so, to life.