I no longer seek answers,
Only Peace.
My fatigue is great,
As if I were a fireplace
Where all of life’s logs have been burnt,
One by one,
Seeking the fire of knowledge,
And still,
I know nothing,
From whence I come?
To where I shall go?
However, the Search is over
Now, I must rest my weary self,
My tired steps
And give up,
Trying to find love,
In Love itself,
While Time crushes, everything else
And Nothing’s left….
The immaculate conceptionOf Rose and its thorn.
If not,A vegetative state,Love does renewThe Life in you,The Paradise,That cannot wait.
Words come forming expression,Feelings, breadth, connection.Thought, feeling, passion,Spark in poetic fashion,The poet writes his song,Knowing Love can do no wrong.
Poetry is a ShipAll the way,From the minuteTo the extreme.
Its tone and its lament.The poet’s love infuses it,With life and sentiment.
Irreplaceable Hearts,Pain that stuns,A thousand times,That you carry with youFor the rest of your life,Like the sharpest pointOf a turning knife,The loneliest feeling,You’ll ever feel in your life.
