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if the earth was a willowand you were one too- would earth be weepingso gentle and true?if I was the gardenwhereas you could grow-would you hand me your br
Anchesand grant me your love?in between the lines of your story-flowing throughthe pages of a book so well prepared thewords leave more than ashes from your pencilwhen it speaks of tiny stories that happenedthrough these years
I swear that your present reality-disillusionedobscurity? -will gently wipe away the tearsof wasted seedshow Can we go through this- with wounded wing before we learned how to flyhow can I control desires- when desires burns on a chilly autumn Night?I will try and make you imagine;the aura where they standis filled with little secrets- as written in the sand
Naked as a child at birtha question in disguisean oasis in a lonely desertwhere lonely unknown lands liefrom here and into infinity- humble and timelessphilosophy-you gently wept away the tearsof wasted seedsall the days that have left meand the species I have seenahead days will follow- it was only a dreamthough my garden is growingunder skies out of blue,and it changes Each seasonboth in colours and in truthyou should know that a willow- a weeping bed's pillow-until all days are throughthe rain that fall on your branches,
Just yearning for a source to feed it's primal needcan make your beauty blossom from withinwith flowers blowing in the wind-and in seasons to follow...
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