My body is made from lucid dreams, And sensual foams. Harp player's hands whispered me into living, on face of Earth. I only knew how to worship the melody of his fingers, his delightful touch. I forgot the song, memories were erased. I was lost, alone and fearful of any bond to Earth. Being a…
Tag: night
Go back to sleep
A nightingale in faraway sings a song. I am here, alone. His song crumbles on the ground of my standing. It must be a dream roaring in my ears. He longs for silence and I want to turn into music! Too tired to step out of lonely borders. That is how I become creative. Cycle…
