You can be addicted
to a certain kind of sadness
Like raindrops falling on a gray winter day.
The hollow sound of the wind escaping through the trees.
Your dreams torn and scattered like autumn leaves
burning bright with desire
Against the wet, black soil
burning bright with desire
Against the wet, black soil
Lost in translation
In a translucent transition
Like colors of the rainbow
A figment of your imagination
Yet so real
that....
You can feel the touch
on your skin...
Like nails moving in.
The warmth of the orange hues
smoldering your soul
in its embrace.
Surrendering to something
so much stronger than you will ever be
In your dreams
you create the person you already are
Breathing in the cold air of the first days of spring
after rain must come sun
What doesn't kill you, makes you.
Stronger.
Stronger.
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| Mesmerizing forever changing skies of Oualidia, Morocco from Gypsy TalesTM |
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