Time
Time is out of our hands, like the wind that touches our skin but never stays with us.. a cloud that runs through the skies... And meanwhile, we live without feeling we really lived, but the blood still runs through our veins.. The heart beats in a rythm of its own, following the music of existence, following the notes of emptiness. Our steps are like drums that mark our passage in the world, and the shadows do stay at our side whenever they decide. Maybe we could see them, maybe we could hide from them, but the truth is there is no truth, we choose what to believe and what to crucify.
Blending the elements that build our life, we form a compound of cosmopolitan feeling that shake the inner cells. Wind blows and suddenly our dreams fly away like balloons that we release in the air. We sink in the abyss where a stair shines to give us the breath of life. And we start the breath again, faster and faster.. as time goes by......
posted by Veruska @ 7:03 da tarde
1 Ideias:
Ja nao tenho ingles há uns aninhos:P mas pronto vou percebendo grande parte do k escreveste:P:P(nao sei o k é "drums"..:S:S..nem "inner"...)
Bem nao concordo com uma coisa que disseste:P..que não existe verdade..talvez ela exista..mas nos nao tenhamos a capacidade de a entender;)
Mas de resto o texto esta mt bom..sabes é engraçado..ha akeles textos que consoante a lingua em que se escrevem têm diferente expressividade..mas tu consegues escrever coisas que qq que seja a lingua têm sempre uma enorme expressividade:)
Bjs e continua, free mind
Enviar um comentário
<< Home