Thursday, 19 May 2016

Voices

Rays call the rising pebble,
to shine all the way and roll
not to stop, but to go and go,
all long the way down the woods,
to not settle, but to fly,
despite the contradictions by your pals,
 rise and rise to beat the characteristics,
and establish your terms
beating the equilibrium.


Snows call the leaves,
to shed not to be lost,
but to rise from the cause,
to float on the air,
to go through the thin air,
making dances ups and downs,
to lie on the summit,
and flow from the origin to the origin,
only to gather some flakes over and under.


Silver lights call the droplets,
to waive nicely, to reflect
it translucently, and glorify it
yet again, move to touch,
move to touch the dust of sand,
which will dissolve you but not reflect me,
will remain in the veins,
even if not being reflected,
that is my droplet will be the proud moment.


Winds call the dusts,
to fly nicely, as when it will,
dusts will fly in the name of winds,
the particle in the eye will be dust though,
but, the heart of it will say the wind is alive,
the dust though will be in the floor of your dine,
but the wind will be the driving force behind the particle,
so fly, so fly, waive and go, it is I who will lift you and shift you,
the improvement, the changes, be the catalyst be wind of you. 
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