Tomorrow's sun will be more brilliant tomorrow's flowers will bloom brighter tomorrow's smile will be merrier tomorrow's mission guaranteed to be accomplished it'll be okay a kind heart will fly me through every obstacle it'll be okay scared thoughts will seek the arrangements of God's will.
In the morning icy raindrop climbs up my cheek painting a dream mischievously hoisting one sail after another shadow of loneliness in silence starts to stagger in a busy world decorate the hustle and bustle with a smile perhaps it's the distance that affects the heart perhaps it's ordinary that is the nature can't say for sure rain is still falling the story continues.
An eagle flew away coldness sprinkled on the height of his flying the holy ice and snow of the peak the sound of wings across the crevice the pilgrimage route is forever in his heart the eternal light is his eyesight the deserted altitude the empty skies this temptation of solitude the earth with its gravitational force opens up the door of fate once again.
Venus de Milo is, a myth who'd lost her arms, Pushkin, the 19th century's fall of the sun, the nights engulfing the stars, while the stars, illuminating the night, the sounds of piano, of Beethoven, piercing the sky, they are, stars that never fall.
Waves hitting rocks line struggling to escape the plane broken-shaped brightness breaking the jump of the line like the fish of time two dark blue seas one still life one billow bright waves sparkling shining flowing into quiet meditation of the sea the musing sea quietly listening to the light on the ladder of eyelash a white fish leaps out of the fissure it's the broken waves a chaotic weave of still life and animal a flower of introspection blooms in a collection of green then the blues of rain the petals of snow the bone of ice the white of frost within the wood wind crashed the light floating on paper it's past midnight.
I like poetry though i don't write it well every poem contains my thoughts every line is the perception and crystallization of my inner feelings i've read countless poems some are written by famed poets some by lovers just like myself and i always envy and admire their literary styles and talents in the world of words everyone is the original creator some play the codes elegantly some just express the moods with words plainly the world is too big and not everyone can make the texts look pretty but words bring each of us light and illumination i like poetry though i don't play it well.
A log cabin decorated with jasmine emitting subtle fragrance bonsai on the windowsill feeling the greenness of life it's wonderful to close the flashy door of the world collect morning dew garden everyday bathe in nature to wash away the dirt of body and mind to enjoy an eyeful of beautiful solitude at sunset.
In the twilight sun there's two skylarks capering about discussing i don't know what just chirruping just seem to be saying we are alive we should be jumping, singing, celebrating nobody can take this joy of life from us.
What is happiness it is a grass born to be quiet it is a river in daylight a poetic rhyme that touches people what is happiness it is a story sung throughout the world prolonged unremitting the one sleeping in the long river of history the baby in the cradle of galaxy what is happiness it is a tired seagull sitting in a room waiting for the hut of sunset it is the gentle friendship when spring breeze is green a dog sitting on the shore facing the river in a daze what is happiness it is the red glow entering the setting sun happiness is a dream immersed in a noise.
Gray hair is the scalar of the fleeting time eyes are the representation of all things the mind is the heavenly body that visits the universe everyday thought is the direction shining bright.
The color green greets the eye green overspreading the vast land climbing up spirited mountain stincturing thousands of miles of river uniting the sky the wind dancing in green dress green shadows squirming on the forest floor birds on branches singing green-colored songs the air emitting green odors green is a group of girls in the meadow a band of boys in the prairie running laughing green is the quiddity of youth the most precious treasure of life.
Street corner a ray of light the pale blue sky covered with yarn depicting mystery stately buildings glowing the lost smiles stacked up in early spring passing sceneries chaotic lines erasing the grace of trees jumping thoughts plummet buried in the countryside wandering in a dream rambling in a series of flashbacks.
Sunset burns in my eyes like a piece of nostalgia not yet extinguished at the border of steel and soil shadows stretch long become a silent giant bearing the weight of all these years standing still in the fissure of time at the street corner where town meets countryside I remember the sparkling beach waves murmur in foam lapping the shores of memory on the other side it's the roar of bulldozers the arousal of city’s neon sinking into a soft sofa is what many dwellers here call life two souls twist in the night loneliness heavier than our skeletons two unfamiliar thoughts pressed in a momentarily illusion breaths synced like a metronome falling and rising searching for any place to land wind tapping the windowpane bringing the paleness of dawn behind us who are numb to the passion mountains stretch on silent and strong lifting a vast sky beneath it all is the weave of city and country the tangle of dreams and reality and the countless footsteps of the faceless setting out again, fading down the hall in the morning faint click of a door sealing off the shape of a little comfort.