Can you hear the soft acceptance of feathered blossom as it drifts... slowly sighing... to the carpeted cushion of emerald grass...
Can you hear the mournful murmurings of the small stream as it holds briefly onto each tiny drop before having it whisked away...
Can you hear the battered boughs private protest, wishing for the day when it will no longer have to bear the strains of the universe...
Can you?
I.Sparrow
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Strange swirling thoughts spin in my head and jump onto paper! 18 years young.
A dream within a dream is the only truth to be known..
Unsure of her own nature, she cried out to her father, the river, to save her from the ardent god's intent. Great as her fear of the god's raw pursuit, her own self doubt.
They had only five years on each head, the burden of life but a mystery box slowly undone by time. Names were abstract concepts; offence was uncalculated as was honesty..
The darkness stands silent awaiting the rain. Thunder comes first and the darkness slide forward. Do you have to stop it. Or is some rain what is needed for growth and to clean the air.
Hey I just met you and this is crazy, but here's my number so call me maybe..
Mes sombres vallées caches les esprits déchuts De mes nombreuses batailles, du doux calme Qui s'en dégage. S'engager et être battu Après qu'on n'accepte pas mes quelques larmes.
The wind, one brilliant day, called to my soul with an odour of jasmine.
A wave caught my eye as I Stood on a pier and it Strived towards the shore till in Crashing was no more.
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