The smell of the wet ground, trails of creeks in my window and that ancient melody of raindrops, fast and slow, peaceful and wrathful. Naked trees leaving their last clothing and shameless dancing in the rhythm of the bagpipe, shaking in the violin's moaning, scouring their skins from time's dusty memories, wind is guiding the chore, an ecstatic dance in the wet grassy floor of my yard.
And they asking for companion, covered under the warmth of my blanket I fantasize my freedom playing with branches, dancing carefree , tasting the winter's beauty. Maybe an other time, not today. Today I'll watch from the window admiring nature's daring purity.
Mettled I leave the comfortableness of my soft sheets this cold sensitive morning, looking for solace in a mug of fresh hot coffee. I never drink it at once, I always give it a moment to rest, sniffing the steam full of joy for my insatiable lust of its taste. And this is how my days begin, with rain, sun, winter or summer.
Most people don't appreciate the small moments they have for their selves. Rushing, stressing, haunted by time leaving their joys passing by with their smiles. Time is overrated, he was always here and will always be. He doesn't care how fast we running to catch him, he will never slow down for you or for me, for no one. I always give time to myself in the morning, it's my moment of reconstruction and meditation, quite... away from corrupted world's noise.
I lit my candles, my essence oils and an incense stick. The flowing fragranced smoke enfolds me sweetly as a lover's caress. And I'm happy, I see the colors from my mind running out of my fingers, finding a shaped shelter in my white painting. The rain is still hallows our streets, our ground bringing life, hope, inspiration. And my brashes are diving full of passion embracing the colors create an affair unbreakable to time. And the white became red, became blue and they gave birth to my favorite purple.
Smoking a rolled one, thinking the dance, the smell, the caress, the joy. Love.
The feeling of love is inside us. In every little detail. The way a musician is touching his instrument, the caring glance to your sleeping consort, the proud gaze of an artist to his creations.
And what if your journey is unknown? You will feel lonely only if you are not look around you. The destination is not happiness, its the dream. The dream is keeping you alive, making you continue the journey. As for the happiness you seek, was always there in your beloved ones, in your creations, in your lust for life. No matter what I wont let the dream fade. The source, my light, my love.
And they asking for companion, covered under the warmth of my blanket I fantasize my freedom playing with branches, dancing carefree , tasting the winter's beauty. Maybe an other time, not today. Today I'll watch from the window admiring nature's daring purity.
Mettled I leave the comfortableness of my soft sheets this cold sensitive morning, looking for solace in a mug of fresh hot coffee. I never drink it at once, I always give it a moment to rest, sniffing the steam full of joy for my insatiable lust of its taste. And this is how my days begin, with rain, sun, winter or summer.
Most people don't appreciate the small moments they have for their selves. Rushing, stressing, haunted by time leaving their joys passing by with their smiles. Time is overrated, he was always here and will always be. He doesn't care how fast we running to catch him, he will never slow down for you or for me, for no one. I always give time to myself in the morning, it's my moment of reconstruction and meditation, quite... away from corrupted world's noise.
I lit my candles, my essence oils and an incense stick. The flowing fragranced smoke enfolds me sweetly as a lover's caress. And I'm happy, I see the colors from my mind running out of my fingers, finding a shaped shelter in my white painting. The rain is still hallows our streets, our ground bringing life, hope, inspiration. And my brashes are diving full of passion embracing the colors create an affair unbreakable to time. And the white became red, became blue and they gave birth to my favorite purple.
Smoking a rolled one, thinking the dance, the smell, the caress, the joy. Love.
The feeling of love is inside us. In every little detail. The way a musician is touching his instrument, the caring glance to your sleeping consort, the proud gaze of an artist to his creations.
And what if your journey is unknown? You will feel lonely only if you are not look around you. The destination is not happiness, its the dream. The dream is keeping you alive, making you continue the journey. As for the happiness you seek, was always there in your beloved ones, in your creations, in your lust for life. No matter what I wont let the dream fade. The source, my light, my love.
