time swirling down, dimming into a stop
The black room sings, celebrating the event that is coming
She gently touches, butterfly fingers caress the stilled surface
She will be patient, after all, she has all the time in the world

Maybe, maybe it was real, and maybe, maybe I was there. With the carousel, the merry-go-round, the slapping of winds on my face and water soaked up my body. With the chilling smiles, the laughter and the flashing lights of carnival. It was raining, hard and cold droplets of water marching down to earth. And it was real, so real I can feel the ( Read more... )

Put down your toys, child
It's time to grow up

Pick up your weapons, soldier
It's time
We're going to war

And we'll see the sky
lit up like the Christmas tree
or like the firework
on New Year Eve
We're going to war

Soldier we're falling down

And he made a grand gesture, to the world below him, although he knows they can't see it. Like a dedicated host to their guest, he listed the introduction, a monologue to nobody, but he knows, the fact that there's no one there do nothing to his enthusiasm. And he laughed, like a mad man, in a sense he was ( Read more... )

Kindness from a stranger
is it weird?
that a gesture from someone I never know
is more kind
and gentle
than that from those I called my
even though they doesn't know
me
it seems
kindness has been lost
in the sea of miscommunication

And I'd been wondered
inside the empty Pandora Box
what
am I
looking
for?

Around the clock
I run
running
towards you
perhaps
I just want
another glimpse of you
but why
why
.
.
.
You're always so far away

It's all in your head ( Read more... )

Can you, care to write me a song
about emotions
like love
like hope
like trust
'Cause it seems like, I had forgot
how
to believe
in the future
and to have
faith
.
.
.
I don't think you will

Gift to me and gift to you
We're in this mad house together
Never be apart
Won't we

Long ago, in legend forgotten, spoken of a garden, laid deep inside this forest. There were songs, and laughters of invisible people, ringing like the bell, clear and gently. There were flowers, of vibrant color and secret origin. Formed by magic some said, work of the devil some whisper. The garden, with its gently breeze and enchanting songs, ( Read more... )