eyes that talk more than words.
clarity of kindred spirits.temptations from the past.
kindness. laughter. a piece of the sun in your right eye. uncertainty.
eyes that talk more than words.
clarity of kindred spirits.Alternative universe flavors with spicy ques of unbreakable spirits and piles of chips for the breakeable rules of the past.
I am the daughter of the SUN, the line in the horizon when flying to Taiwan. The grafitti mark on the bridge between space and time.
I am the daughter of the Past. Where songs seem sweeter, and food eaten is always there one taste bud in the memory node.
I am the mother of tomorrow. TODAY.
Eyes troubled. unslept. unquiet.
Bare foot dancing in the snow.
the last parts of my soul burning and coughing bits and pieces of hope.
My feet dancing in the snow in the rithm of my oldest dreams. A heart, a yellow hill and my burning soul, covered with snow.
Your eyes and hands and quiet smile.
The way your words speak after your eyes, the way you want to look and the way you are; a bit different.There is a dreamer on a horse on top of a hil. There are 3 or 7 hills there. She looks for the other part of the moon. Where her dreams still have wings. Where her hopes make a mark in the desert and where the smile she seeks is on the highest hill, looking at the moon. The desert is near.
emotional socks outside your door;
the events led to a stubborn cleaning of the floor.grounded spirit, i always had,
but to fly it is not easy. It needs one adrenaline junkie and one dreamer, without any push,In your shadows I moved my soul,
certain I need to keep up,in this round world my chin is too long,
determination written backwords.Stairs to the moon. Little fingers that build them. Night crown over my head reminding me about past choices. Different shadows of perception and gray lights. Lights from the alternative futures.
Build roots like the old oak, I used to hide behind. Build roots like the flowers that still know how to bloom after winter. Build wings to change perspective and make amends with all of your past self.Loosing the wings; that bring me home I chase the sand in gray boots and do the dance of the ocean. The dance that i catch in your eyes. The voice of kindness, hidden behind tough walls of undreamt dreams and immortal promise of nothingness. In the nothing I stand as before. Waiting as before. Closing my eyes and melting in the unspoken promise of tomorrow.