seaside winds and desires I least thought of
art and joy, my soul where it takes me
surreal shades of objects that appear
like miracles of yesterday dim out
before the candle emanates a last breath of flame
before i could grab it and stop it
from venturing into twists and turns of
escaped thoughts which is in itself bounded
by the rules of this complex society
may those flowers pick its beauty from the sun
and dance along the slopes of the high terrain
covered by the mist of morning rain
a place we can never attach our vision to
our meek pleasures, Oh What can i say
sit on those decorated shelves of museums
where swords and scimitars lay shining
I am stuck here. Tired. No more thoughts. Enough! Cig please :)
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