Splendor of a moonlit night frozen in vacuum silence of desolate air lies within reach. Let the mind break its golden cage and spread flapping wings. The sky and stars, trees and earth will absorb all the steam and bring us within our hold for, we have a right to live every day. Let’s open the chiller door make a drink and make up our mind, sip the beauty and spread ourselves. That’s the way to peace and heaven, that’s the way to live with self.
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
…So, I asked: what is beauty? He said: it is the impossible becoming real; or It is the kohl of a string on the forefingers of a guitar player; It is the explosion of astonishment on a beautiful lady’s waist;
…So. I said: what is beauty? He said: it is the impossible being real, it is the kohl of a string on the forefingers of a guitar player, it is the explosion of astonishment on a beautiful lady’s waist, it