the seconds sounded as a hurried heart beat. i hear the splash of the waves pounding at the soft sand. soon the sun will rise again one more time. the song will play again until the last beat, until the last verse without fail, without mistake. the way is just another turn of the same road, of the same trees lining up silently as you march one more time. on sunny days the leaves are there to greet you, to dance for you. but on cold days the leaves are gone. only macabre sticks sadly pointing at the sky. longing for their covers. the birds are gone. their house is just a sleeping dead branches that spring could only change its make up and that only summer could make it warm, one more time. it is a ritual of nature. the art that are just there created by someone who owns the sky...it's free, it's ever changing as if it wanted to please me everyday as i sleep and wake up. another view another vista, another time, another panorama...life is great!
Sunday, February 14, 2010
the art of repetitive desires
the seconds sounded as a hurried heart beat. i hear the splash of the waves pounding at the soft sand. soon the sun will rise again one more time. the song will play again until the last beat, until the last verse without fail, without mistake. the way is just another turn of the same road, of the same trees lining up silently as you march one more time. on sunny days the leaves are there to greet you, to dance for you. but on cold days the leaves are gone. only macabre sticks sadly pointing at the sky. longing for their covers. the birds are gone. their house is just a sleeping dead branches that spring could only change its make up and that only summer could make it warm, one more time. it is a ritual of nature. the art that are just there created by someone who owns the sky...it's free, it's ever changing as if it wanted to please me everyday as i sleep and wake up. another view another vista, another time, another panorama...life is great!
