

Wings of Our Own TruthWhy do eyes mirror the clouds? Yearning the comfort of the Sun with the cool blue Waters of the sky. Then dream of the Man on the MoonWings of Our Own Truth
Because our eyes once matched The sky which was our mother, Daughter, feast and graveyard. With wings of our own truth We shunned the ground of Our crippled chaotic ancestors.
In awe we underestimate Our starry vision of truth That created the sky. For when our wings clash for the prize, Feathers become lead. Then,
Drag us down to our earthen graves.


Harmonic BeatIs It The Tip Or the tap Of those melodic fingers Which embodies the Love you couldn't describe?Harmonic Beat
Is It This Beat That makes your heart Burst through the confines Of it's biological prison Which couldn't hold a tune?
Is It the
Snap Of that last strand Which couldn't take the pressure Of a distance disturbed By the missing trickster?
Or Is The Drip Just another brick Of that tough wall That stops the medicinal Pain you need so badly?


Artifice of the HeartThe answer to your puzzling tricks Aren't right under your nose. That's just the false reflection Of the nightmares you can't articulate. Will this fad of your heart Be the final artifice on your soul?Artifice of the Heart
Your clever trap is razor sharp But still shatters at the touch. These ash hardened hands Burn through those tempting deceptions. Then smash the stained glass spectacles Holding back the unknown.
The blood in your eyes
Only lasts for a while. But they'll heal right Once you get all the shards out. Isn't the world sublime When you


That Perfect PortraitIs it really all that suprising, That the twinkle in his eye is gone? Because it was all so obvious before. When he said he loved you.That Perfect Portrait
Does it really come as a shock, That you don't feel that flush In your face when she walks into the room? Now that she's gone.
Was it utterly uncomparable To that perfect portrait in your head? Where you took special care Painting that attractive twinkle.
Has it been revitalizing? Knowing that your room is clear. Now that the blush is gone. So your blood can be yours again.
The deepest lo
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Al tempio, incisa nella pietra, c'è una poesia intitolata "la mancanza"
Ci sono 3 parole, ma il poeta le ha cancellate.
Non si può leggere la mancanza, solo avvertirla.
gallery [link]
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-bird-
Resonant Red Skywalker
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c v m p a t i e n t i a
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Left it all on the side of the road.
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Left it all on the side of the road.
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