Gratitude Is The Wine For The Soul.

Physical Existence Is So Cramped.we Grow Old And Bent Over Like Embryos.nine Months Passes;it Is Time To Be Born. The Lamb Wants To Graze Green Daylight. There Are Ways Of Being Born Twice,of Coming To Where You Fly,not Individually Like Birds, But As The Sun Moves With His Bride,sincerity.

I Used To Read The Myths Of Love Now I Have Become The Mythical Lover

Your Eyelashes Will Write On My Heart The Poem That Could Never Come From The Pen Of A Poet.

Criticism Polishes My Mirror.

I Know You're Tired But Come, This Is The Way.