And they say
they are pilgrims
they are doing it for their God's sake
I) I have always been fascinated by the word antonym
whatever befalls me
I m just a mute spectator
say I'm walking up the hill
The voice of the tree gets frozen
and the snow falls on the heart of the winter
it has been broken
I wanted to draw a painting
on the canvas called life...
beatiful, mystic yet attractive..
the ailing forest
carpeted with autumnal leaves
the candle is lighten up
with the mercy of cold angry air.
i started searching for myself
who cries at midnight
what comes out from the heart of the rock?
the thousand years of grief
the insane night
the noise of silence
whispering something into my ears
the night is a mourn song of lost sun
for everybody else
there is a place to go back
to feel the touch of beloved
and go back to the land, they belong