The Naked Horseman
Nothing captures the blink of an eye, smite the storm
If there is a star that blinks twice it is a soul
It is the drop before the sound that makes the form
His name has remained echo-like, a stain of bole
I sing to you from the heart for it alone cuts—
–a path worthy to follow, naked on horseback
A rider in the night, a spear into the guts
Of the last true Prince of Krakow – by a failed claque
Murder in the ashen night, wolfen Piast’s passing
I mourn you Leszek the White, you should have been King.
On the 787th anniversary of the assassination of Leszek the White, the Piast Prince of Krakow, and High Duke of Poland at Gąsawa in 1227 on November 24.