if the earth was a willow and you were one too - would earth be weeping so gentle and true? if I was the garden whereas you could grow -would you hand me your brAnches and grant me your love?
in between the lines of your story-flowing through the pages of a book so well prepared the words leave more than ashes from your pencil when it speaks of tiny stories that happened through these years I swear that your present reality-disillusioned obscurity? -will gently wipe away the tears of wasted seeds
how Can we go through this - with wounded wing before we learned how to fly how can I control desires - when desires burns on a chilly autumn Night?
I will try and make you imagine; the aura where they stand is filled with little secrets - as written in the sand Naked as a child at birth a question in disguise an oasis in a lonely desert where lonely unknown lands lie
from here and into infinity - humble and timeless philosophy-you gently wept away the tears of wasted seeds
all the days that have left me and the species I have seen ahead days will follow - it was only a dream though my garden is growing under skies out of blue, and it changes Each season both in colours and in truth you should know that a willow - a weeping bed's pillow- until all days are through
the rain that fall on your branches, Just yearning for a source to feed it's primal need can make your beauty blossom from within with flowers blowing in the wind-and in seasons to follow...
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