Why compare love to a game?
You of all people should known they are not the same.

Love is like fire, disrespect it and it burns, without love everything you do, like a boomerang turns.

But love is willing to forget, to forgive, in it, lies a better meaning to live.

Love is a sacrifice, it is forever kind and true, love knows of us, not of me and you. 

Never aging, so tender yet so strong, love will never end, in our hearts it does belong.

There was once a warrior, long long ago, who didn't know what to do, didn't know where to go, to run from his enemy, to hide from his foe.

The duel was fierce, the tides were his, but, when his nemesis he was about to pierce, a silent arrow was released to fly, cutting flesh, it entered his thigh, and so, he was left there to die.

Close to his end, he had a dream, and there before him, stood the forest queen, and said onto him: I give now life onto thee, but if you waste it on revenge, don't turn back to me, try to lead a good life, live it to the full, forget your old life, and don't be a fool!

As she came, the good fairy vanished, and the man went on his way, from his hometown now banished.

He built a new life, far far away, where no one could find him, and hands on him lay. 

But his enemy was smart, he was no fool, he was searching for our man, with rage as his fuel. 

The good man got word of the nearing danger, from the town people, who saw the menacing stranger.

He got tired of hiding, so he strung his bow, took his sword, and faced his foe.

Once again he had to fight, but this time, there was peace in his mind.

He searched not for revenge, so his head was cool, his enemy however, acted like a fool: for he was swinging his sword from side to side, so the archer from behind could not shoot an arrow he could not guide.

Once more the hero was winning the fight, so the archer pulled the poisonous arrow back with all his might, and let it go on it's deadly flight.

A gust of wind then blew from among the trees, changing it's course, riding the breeze, the arrow slid past the innocent fighter, and pierced the heart of the treacherous hearted rider.

When the dust cleared, only the good was left standing, after a long fight, over his dead enemies panting. 

Plain justice was better than any revenge, now his life, for the better would change, he could go back to his old home, or he could start a journey alone, for now he was free, he didn't have to hide, and so, no fear was left in his mind.

The sun is shining atop,
a blue autumn sky,
time for the birds to leave,
time to say goodbye...



Leaves are falling from the proud tall trees,
as they're taken away by a chilling breeze...

Leaves of many colours,
brown, red and yellow,
land around the age old willow.

Less and less is the sun showing it's gold warm face,
and each beam of sunlight is a ray of grace...
Leaves are falling into a cold mountain lake,
and onto the sky's reflection, ripples they make.


And so, red fall and white winter, have come this land with cold to blister, to send it into a deep slumber, and afterwards to awaken younger.

As the light bulb in my lamp slowly burns it’s life away,
I read to the music of rain, falling from clouds of gray.

Surrounded by old books and travel souvenirs,
I can feel the coziness of warm old memories,
as they light up my heart with joyful melodies.

Dusk has passed and the rain has ceased,
dispersed clouds the night sky have eased,
as they let rays of white moonlight,
reflect from many droplets, shining bright.

As the clock ticks away into the night,
the silence grows overwhelming,
so I’ll play my favorite songs tonight,
while my adventures remembering

If the world is bleak and tasteless, and you hope that your death will be painless,

and all around you are wolves and sheep, and only your lyrics are true and deep,

and your talent is unappreciated,
and you yourself are underrated,

If your dream for the world is misunderstood, and you are not part of any brotherhood,

If they belong in groups, and are slaves to peer pressure, if you are a loner, pursuing quiet and leisure,

If you feel that life is just a speck of dust; stone will erode and iron will rust,

If all hope is naive, but the hope of dying, and people forgot the truth; they believe in lying,

If all are selfish, and none is true, then listen to me, as I speak to you:

Look at the meadows, flowers, trees,
feel the wind, earth and the seas...

Look at the children: happy and carefree, in which their parents found meaning and destiny....

Look at poets and thinkers like you, people who've made it their mission to speak true...

Look at the farmer in the field, who depends on God's mercy for the crops to yield...

Their lives are not as bleak as they seem,
colorful emotions fill their routine.

So don't loose hope, hope is for the brave! The person of change is not depression's slave...

Start by speaking up, change the world you see, only then you'll discover: that's your destiny.

Anyone can criticize, anyone can point, but who will start to work, who won't disappoint?