perjantai 14. marraskuuta 2014

lost are the ones who do not listen

There is a invisible lark
that lives in her heart
never to be seen or explained
for how does one 
transform into words 
something as
 as the constant observations, 
the Seeing
of patterns, of intent
in the movements of the world
of the hands of time
not moving clockwise
but to every single direction
as one like the tide ?

She sees the world
and how it unfolds
there is no emptiness
no loose threads
for all things are
and grow as One

The absence of something
we wish to existence
does not mean
our hands ever touched
the edges of Nothing.

None can hold a mirror
to the actions of their own
and not See
 the truth reversed

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Whisper your message to the waves, the echo will reach me.