17 Jul 2019

Month: July 2017

Poetry

Falling 

It isn’t necessary to be afraid of hell after death. Each and every one of us has been there already. Darkness during the sunniest of July days. Sadness among twittering bird and playing kids in the dirt. We all have been there – falling and falling with nothing to grab and stop.

Poetry

Looking Out the Window 

The world often seems like one seen through a window; the colors fade and all the images are blurry and distant. And at that time, a train carrying passengers we know or we thought we knew pass by. Presents, futures and pasts roll on. And the whistle that was strong is slowly fading away… the train leaves us alone.

Poetry

Buried 

How many things can summer nights give us? The whistle of the dark. Its music and quiet dance. The stars and the silent sky. But the dead are always there, they come and go, following our footsteps. And when we turn to see them -there is nothing, only the faint echo of goodbye.