Let all the green leaves be mineas long as the trees define shades created by their limbsfor the soil made with victimsof atrocity's vileness to redeem the fragileness
I feel my hand. I am these two beasts struggling at the end of my arms. My hand scratches one of its paws with the nail of the other paw; I feel its weight on the table which is not me. It's long, lon...
You grieve at first. And then slowly, with the yawning of the years, the disappeared gets scraped from your memory, the way your flesh can be peeled from your limbs. It's very harsh and extremely pain...
Yes. Oh no! I don't subject myself to a leadership that does not break new territories! It is the job of leadership to succeed in landing its limbs on new grounds.
Nature has no beauty forbiddenManmade concrete slab: guilt-riddenWings or leaves whatever we may careThose limbs with the birds only trees will share