16 września 2014
NINTH SYMPHONY
A scented moon caves in
on a tree top
and solitude withers up in a seminal cloud,
It is good to be friendless sometimes.
Me and homecoming become synonymous.
We are ruined by familiar paths.
The mist deepens.
Not reaching anywhere.
I come out in dark to find the stars.
What will you do if the soul sneaks out of a body?
The wind starts a dirty dance.
A tall cedar scowls.
It starts raining,
fabulous as tears on an immaculate face.
Pull up the veil.
It separates the truth.
Do not filter the pain.
We may find a god.
Satish Verma
25 lutego 2025
ajw
25 lutego 2025
dobrosław77
25 lutego 2025
Jaga
25 lutego 2025
Eva T.
25 lutego 2025
sam53
25 lutego 2025
Belamonte/Senograsta
25 lutego 2025
Marek Jastrząb
24 lutego 2025
Toya
24 lutego 2025
Bezka
24 lutego 2025
wolnyduch