Shadows, all turned in green as winter to spring.
- Fine. I'm waiting still.
...
Leaving it all and leave, to live.
Time, experiences, turing back and silence.
Now those words scape
...
Shadows
Shadows, all turned in green as winter to spring.
- Fine. I'm waiting still.
I can only came through this absentminded path as swallows turning by, in shadows of light cleaning the way, warming those 'till painting's alive.
- I got it now, I guess.
Now, the brief instant of this.
- sparkles of past mixed with the rising future.
Being it, I can finally fill that blank.
- You do.
From this day on, frozen lakes will recover themselves and live fluently as waterfalls.
- Fine. I'm waiting still.
They will be able to find, to find their own way, their not-to-silent-path.
- You didn't finish yet.
They will have a voice, their voice, to claim, to sing.
- Then what?
Expression.
- It's not as simple as it seems, huh?
It's not.
- What are you capable of to find Expression?
I would prefer not to.
- You must.
I know.