Mihaela Pirjol Poems
We cannot aspire to that which is already dead,
And there is no solace in delusion;
We should save the present for future memories
Thus, to remember we had a life we lived.
No soul which is born alone and dies alone ever pertain
To anyone, on this mortal realm of mortals;
Nothing we are, but an evanescent breath of air;
Utopian significance of being insignificant.
How a superbus phallus in carnal pleasure dies,
That ephemeral all these earthly passions are;
Like the face of moon from dusk till dawn
When sun replace its ardour with other kind of ...
Forgiveness Is The End
Forgiveness is the end of Past.
Conceived ideas begin to form,
An old mind crushing to dust;
The brave survivor of the storm.
As you reach your depths, you find
A wiser man at ease, with pride.
A passing sense of emptiness,
Numb, as old emotions had subside;