Soul of stone
Voiceless presence in the narrow track At dawn, waiting for the light to gain the scene and give birth to shadows Shadows to give birth to living, immaterial creatures Resembling dreams, sometimes nightmares, sometimes visions as ghosts, as mirages. Whatever they are. Matters not In a misty morning or in the haze of some restless day. Soaked by the drizzle of a romantic autumn, lost in the fogs of an harsh winter A place dense of solitude And rich of life, at the same time You sensed the former You breathed the latter Tense was the air, and filled by voices Whispering as the wind does Ancient stories of life Ancient stories of men and glory Tiny events, minimal personal notes of so many Incastonated into the grand canvas of entire populations Moving, pulsing, swarming, settling down, moving again Live and survive, Restless nature of the world Conquer and search Restless nature of mankind Comments are closed.
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AuthorStories and novels, stories and shades of words. Sapphire can be a voice, a whisper, a night talk. Colours in words, words merged and melted with pictures. Words as colours, words as shapes sometimes overlapping with the visual experience. A different way to see the world or, maybe, just the very same way using different tools and finding different paths. Archives
December 2021
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