to feel the air
as it rips the cells of your lips;
After forty years
none of these will have a meaning;
Your face will be full of wrinkles
your hands will shiver
your smile will wither
when you were born!
For the sign, that comes without a sign;
For the shout, that comes without a sound;
For the favor, that comes without a question
And for the word, that comes without any abbreviation!
Everything is a poem,
Everything is poetry.
I love sounds
and I love beauty
and morning’s music
I love to breathe
and to walk on…
I’ll amaze myself.
Watching colors as they change shape
from black, to white!
An amazing yet disturbing sight
this beautiful symphony of death and life
played for all…
but not everyone is able to dance
to this fast-paced tact.
On a corner she laid.
Broken as she was-