One boy told me

'you can ride a bicycle
In a wonderful street
But it will not lessen
Your loneliness.'
The other day
He was there
Carrying newspapers
Fixed to the carrier
And me on the opposite
Pedalling slowly.
One of neighbour of him
Informed me
He was an orphan
like you.
He was right.
We use mediums
To keep moving on
But we need people
To go on smiling.

Love
To oneself
Is being mature
To understand priorities

In the process of hording money
I forgot to love myself and my identity

Don't leave me
Like the rain to the tree;
Little by little,
My blossoms will wither
And I will be the desert again!

What my song
If there is no flute
To give it breaths?

What my life
If there is no anchor
To hold me in the storm?

I have this feeling you speak the language
whispered only between raindrops,
and every morning
you tune the hum of the sun as
it dims the stars, pushing its way
out of the ocean—into the sky.
I have this feeling you handpick the color
of each October leaf,
and when fall has wandered away,
you proceed to pull the strings which
make the northern lights dance
the way that they do.

I just have this beautiful feeling.

One can't give a silver  branch
But he can give an olive branch