More than Words !

Every morning, As I wake up, I think of death, I am dying, Slow and steady ! How amazing sight, This feeling of divinity, Of death, of serenity, That makes me live, Now and here ! Every night, As i set myself for bed, I realize i really died, Who was this man, This morning ! Who is this man, Who was he, Who is he now !  

These butterflies raised in war, raised in blood, raised in wrath, search for frogs in the ground, they hunt them and eat them around ! \ The butterflies eating the lumpy frog, ducks swimming with the dutch horse, this is the world of all frost, all frost, the foggy atmosphere, its a dead curse !

Every-time it rains,  I remember a story, an old man once told ! When the drop evaporates, fly's high up to the sky, the river moans her death, and she just smiles ! She gets around the world, explores with winds and whirls,  forms a glorious cycle like a dream, with thunders and storms ! And on some other land,  far away sets in the journey, to get back home,  this home and that home, every home !!

All the fire that is there, all the heat, all the faces and all the periodicity going on, randomness and vague motives. People, people and people: more people, so much more people! As I walk by, the shiny floor of marble, cleaned every now and then. Shops along the way: clothes, gadgets, auxiliaries, shoes, gold, foods, more foods! The Chinese couple on the sideways, trying to steal kisses. The Muslim girl on the lift secretly holding the boys hands. I do not want to look around the perfume shops, but I do every time. I do not know if those people are gays or homos, but I can see their stories in their eyes.  Why are they like that? The music played on the background. I want to know who chooses the playlist here. All the songs are repetitive and boring. The tourist trying to find his ways. The smell of Coffee and bread. As I walk by, girls smiling. What is in their mind? Are they flirting? I do not care any ways.  “Strangers” There is a pregnant woman in front of me,...

Let me find a way to explain, the story of the lovers unknown, how deep it goes if it can be shown, straight to the souls within the souls ! Of all the heavens known to man,  this is the one that is not known, for it needs a magical spell blown,  into the mirror of the lovers moans ! Under the snow: in the hot stones , the air blowing in swings and tides,  heating and cooling here and now, blankets of living, in ups and in downs ! This is the land of changing sky,  its blue, its red and even violet sometimes, tears and smiles moving in parallel grounds,  falling into pieces and climbing around ! Climbing to the mountains the final abode, drifting by the winds floating just above, waterfalls from the land of rainbows,  comes and knocks the doors of her soul !