if the earth was a willow

and you were one too

-would earth be weeping

so gentle and so true?

if I was the garden

whereas you could grow

-would you hand me your branches

and grant me your love?



in between the lines of your story-flowing through

the pages of a book so well prepared

the words leave more than ashes from your pencil

when it speaks of tiny stories

that happened through these years



I swear that your present reality

-disillusioned obscurity?

-will gently wipe away the tears

of wasted seeds



how can we go through this

-with wounded wings before we learned how to fly

how can i control desires

-when desire burns on a chilly autumn Night?



I will try and make you imagine;

the aura where they stand

is filled with little secrets

-as written in the sand

Naked as a child at birth

a question in disguise

an oasis in a lonely desert

where lonely unknown lands lie



from here and into (infinity)

-humble and timeless philosophy

-you gently wept away the tears

of wasted seeds



all the days that have left me

and the species I have seen

ahead days will follow

-it was only a dream

though my garden is growing

under skies out of blue,

and it changes each season

both in colours and in truth



you should know that a willow

-a weeping bed's pillow-

...

until all days are through



rain that fall on your branches,

Yearning for a source to feed it's primal need

can maKe your beauty blossom from within

with flowers blowing in the wind

-and in seasons to follow....