What was the subject？”she asked.
“I scarcely know.
With Adam and Eve-que sais-je？

Was it a hymn to the beauty of the human form
Male and female, and the praise to nature, sublime, indifferent
Or maybe more naughty with lovely spirits, and cruel?
He extends his smile winkles and replies
It was strange and fantastic.
It was a vision of the beginnings of the world.
And the Garden of Eden that arrives to your dream often.

Yes, Beauty is the subject of my entire life,
She looked into his eyes and whispered: “especially with the painted trees”
I see about myself in every day, every season
the alligator pears, the lily plants, and whatever
with an awful sense of the infinity of space
and of the endlessness of time.

I am the subject of BEAUTY…

She sits at the balcony window,
watching an early summer bloomsome
The earth is like a mirror, she whispers to herself:

Close to You
A glance in the mirror
Within one step closer to the rose
On the face of the sun
a drop of snow.
Under the same cloud
sings a nightingale.
Close to you
not far at all
sea wide from the sky
Purple lily fall…

Attractions attach to attractions
Detachment meeting detachment.
What lives, lives on the ground
What drops, drops and dies without struggle.

To be loved or to be killed answers by Mario Antonio,
A beach signature novel, very guilty and very pleasure
Soaked in with characters of mafia and every targeted ******.

Shh!——He is whispering to me
“Keep your friends close but your enemies closer”
Who is under control, who cares about the battel

Whispering Shh! Some say the world has balanced ball
Godfather is a silent observer. With guilty but pleasure
He demands no power but friendship loyalty.
Struck fear in everyone he has known.

Shh! These are Five Families he plays with,
Still figures of glory. Shh! check the ground
The mud ******* dragon flight throats,
Stepping stones from Europe boot soles.

The Cloud, clouds. Under defence of greed.
The gilt and secure domes of Russia melt and float off
He commands dragonflies behind the clouds
with circled country borders. Across countries and spaces.

Like the drone, drone like shooting machine.
The invisible drone has got so far,  with 400 feet height!
The Pentagon calling Trafalgar Square
Russia, Ukraine game theory with Tianmen Square

Back and forth of tactical and strategic manoeuvring,
with every character shining in little part he must play
“Your enemies always get strong on what you leave behind”

The drone, The Cloud, clouds drone
He is a silent observer, the Godfather.

They landed off from the air as dusts

Heated, threatened, and crown-caked dusts
Those natural winds loudly pronounced their name:
“Infectious diseases, we must **** you all!”
Children cheer to no school again.
Parents again remain home-stay


Daily test lines are occupied by humans, who
keep checking travel healthy kit status, as how
the weeds in the winds, as how humans who
bow their heads contribute to zero-covid strategies

November wind blows out two separate paths
An Oriental Lily is counting her tortoise walks 
on slow determined feet. Happiness or sorrow
two contrasting emotions, he watches her
with glossy eyes inviting oriental Lily to join

his steady aim for contentment, pace of peace.

No sound, at a corner of a giant sea rock
With a fisherman’s eyes search, he sits alone,
searches above, around, and down
mindful of predators

Sea winds pass dangers lurking everywhere,
though it can’t see the hawk a half mile away 
that is watching its every move
towards fallen acorn seeds, where

A hawk flying down and confused for his life.
A sea wonder sits alone and refused to look into sky,
death by hawks within due to strife,
She, departing the nest from the past.

Of swans, of salmon leaping where
the silver water plummets,
and even when caution
is in the wind, dangers remain

Of glaciers swelling broad and bare
A toast to a fallen hawk, the Lord
pours out his largess there
as long as planets continues.

It was not true, the sky was pouring flood.
It was true and all around with tearing blood.

He was dying next to rusted royal region.
His father frozen the anguish to painful tragedy.
Maybe April light will exhaust.
His heart with its cruel.
Ray, removed his key to intuitive rude.

In this part of the story he was the one who
Dies, the only one, and he died in regretful
Prove Tsar’s emotion. He with Love, in fire and blood.
There are no time to farewell for Russia’s Tsar.  

And we don't know Russia and the Russian Tsar
never did lie to each other.



(Because there’s history, and then there’s art, patterns rotate.)