There is a beauty. A beauty like a connection with the past and future.
The beauty is shining. The world revolves around it. It seems everything is drawn towards it. The beauty is magnificent and unrealistic in size, Like a vast source of identity or maybe a way to happiness.
I stay in front of it and look deeply. The beauty forces me to move forward with it and to forget the past. But there is always something in the past which is hard to forget, something brutal and unpleasant. Maybe it is a memory of a war; Or cruel or unjustly order, which settles like a heritage in my mind.
Beauty moves me forward and redeems me from the past. I stand in front of it And stare deeply. How much is its territory, How much can I go forward, How much can it protect me.
The beauty stands powerfully, and forces me to move forward Without any doubt or question. Just go forward, go forward, go always forward with the beauty.
Beauty Careful as I got, paying heed to the sculpture With such finesse, and an eye of a vulture Every peculiarity went on to depict a story Incarnating legends, of the war that was gory Over the period beauty stood
Light a sharpie so bright shines on beauty seen through decay. Both beauty and decay form a duality of darkness and luminosity. Beauty is a love that can provide for its reality against dismay. Just as tradition is a security
Behind your face was cleaver releasing past poem. The sensual milk flows from the palm into your lake. Grieving for the torn wings of pink light. Cruising on thighs with eyes closed death utters a shriek. The eternal flame closes