Grace is a gate to my religion It builds the highway to clarity And art of self gratification That I seek in immortality. Beauty is a faith of survival That heart can see it first It is daily nourishment Eternal water we mortal thirst. Everything has a form of elegance Nature is clothed in divine …
Life is a sailing river entering the body of man in that moment of unity we perceive as joy and pain. But man’s body is a lifeless shell when soul has gracefully flown into mysterious matrix to the freedom all its own.
This is the world of secrets With beauty on the throne My mother is the truth And love is my home. This is the world of colors Shades of endless shower That creates the music of life Immortality we all devour. This is the world of courage That dwells in the fear In the silence …
We’ve met divinely embedded with earthly décor our souls have touched Heavenly they soar. Graceful is a humane body adorned with delight and peace ecstasy is to become a lover: of truth, deception and bliss. With pleasure of ecstatic caress the pool of joy streams with the hands touching your heart offering pillow of dreams.
The truth without lies I cannot dream,Nor life without death can I sustain, Only the solace that the world is creating,With passion I will seek and obtain. When time dies the eternal spirit lives,In a dream which conceals a stolen life,More amazing is a seed of truth,And the first man’s desperate living bite. But, confusion about …
Do you know how the soul writes and creates How it paints and suffers in the days of cruelty Dispersing itself into a cold rhythm of it senses The soul in us is the world of purity. A Sweet word is a soul and the biter taste of bread It is the smell of life …
The freedom is a sequence of wonders, A squished thought into living intents, Blueprint of destiny in its picture, That floats into a chain of events. The flower does not smell to itself, Into its own shadow no one can hide, Neither a wolf would kill for pleasure, In attempt to survive his freedom is …
Under your skin there is the real you, A poem written by the finger of God, Melody composed by the flame of his fire, There is a person made out of mud. Your love is a temple to my religion, It is my church built with living bricks, Under mask of illusion I see purity, …
Dream dissolves in the wind of emotions, Mysteries like phantom in life appear, When perfection rejuvenates its accord in me, I become happiness born from the fear. Love is thrown in the fire of recognition, Like the first offering that is killed in pain, Illuminated circle of a dark distance, Inserts the glow in the …
Fed up I’m of muddy brooks And flowers of a bitter smell, My hands are tied in knots, And thoughts disturbed to tell: Sadness is a ruler of joy, Its crown lures a lonely stream, For one to know solitude, It’s a poet of an infinite dream. Loneliness is a sweet vine, It cures the …
