Dream of the Chair
Stroking wrinkle and skin
Of his rivets and skinny legs
On top of a hill
An art school on the other side
He must had been one of the chairs
To support the students for generations
Their trials and errors
and meditations are written on his warps
Now he became an ascetic
Enduring the winds and the rains
Would he accept me?
In that minute I sat on him
facing toward the City of Bratislava
in the distance below me
Birds are flying
Leaves are trembling in the breeze
Small white flowers blossoming
Trees have soft shades
At night
He must look up at
Innumerable stars
I sighed
That's why he is here...
In his acceptance
I let my body sink
Into the dream of the chair
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