I'm tired from all this... the standards of quantitative and qualitative more or less, If i shows you how it giving birth, then I can't imagine the affection and the impress,
Tools was, is... a peace of mind, emotions with grabbing the sense of your presence in my loneliness... a tab, a map that hunger longing to your sweetness, O.. with a life dictionary opened, maybe no.. maybe yes, just to prove my smartness,
The subject was freedom and how we seek or speak it, in a countries hunt all pencils, in a world full of red, excuse me for asking... are we still dreaming or we left the bed.
I'm a prisoner to an idea takes over my mind and shining in my head..and we will talk about it... face to face ahead,
IF this important heart trouble your peace with words lighter than air, or hopes that in more hoping for a home twice we share, putting the rose in your hair, covering the lips with longing twilight and say,"O Hearts of wind will blown flame".. but Winds, older than changing the plans between a night and day, That hunger and longing came from a true was old, in the shore of your
carves lands.
In one last battle fold upon blue fold, Queens wrought with it's par hands, with her lovely sadly face above the wandering tide, in the hidden secret place where the last dream folded and where it also died, O love "I'll never ever changing till change will be dead"
It is not the triumph over regress, it is the power to suppress.
It is not the money or the fame, it is knowing you will always still the same.
It is not the power or the pride. it is a place in your heart to hide.
It is not a gift or gain, it is accepting and believing in your name.
It is not a point or goal to seek, it is, believing we have never reached the peak.
It is not an tree beneath the wind, it is unmovable root to hold on.
Success is
