Sometimes words do fly in the sky but when words do fly in the sky, there are no keyboards to type.
a beautiful morning, a beautiful girl blowing her nose to glory.
so its a new morning, life is not rosy, life is not moon, stars and daffodils, it is not a river dale story, life is brutally dark, life is ugly, life is Bukowskian and now i am loving this darkness
its so quiet here with no one to speak to just the mountains and me for between us we have forgotten the world and i no longer feel like a human but a hermit living alone in this abode, dazzled by nature's ethereal scheme and the fury of its beauty that slaughters
i did not understand symbols, you taught me symbols, you gave me symbols, we spoke in silence, we spoke in symbols now silence and symbols have lost the way, i have forgotten to understand symbols you spoke symbolically, till the moment you broke the silence