She loved him deeper
than the ocean loves sky.

He didn't know it,
only when the night came
he felt a gentle wind
caressing his cheek,
and smiled.

In a quiet garden
on a little balcony
a candle is lit
in her cat's memory

Beauty
walks
gently
into
the
heart
through
a
delicate
tempest
of
­playing
branches
when
spring
rain
waters
swirl
and
sky
steps
ador­n
streets
with
dance

Burning with flame
of a billion rays
we land on the oceans
of unnamed planets
holding the storm
of each other's arms.

Into the arms of silence
the dusk is falling.

She wonders
how soft
may the night's skin be
where he is.

Empty corridors breathe cold blue moons.
Strangers speak in confessions unknown.
Certainty of solitude cuts through the dark.

And what color is the light?

Softer
on a rose
teardrops

Unravel the being of blooming stars

Touch the sense of swirling leaves

I am with you, flower

There and here

A shadow leaf sleeps in her abode facing north.
In the forgotten garden a litany streams, to coalesce with the flow of a river, shaping its way along the lost shores.
It is dusk. Vesper choirs chant softer than a shy breeze, the forest nightingale weeps without a sound.
For how long shall the story stay unvoiced?
She thinks of eternity.

Your name
is carved immortal
on wings of a gentle bird

O carrier of Winter Moon

Awaken, awaken
to the heart of warmth

Warm
with her fragile leaves
are the lands
of his autumn.

Quiet,
o so quiet

And in the dusk
it rains
tenderness.

Under the light of stars time cradles a sorrowful desire. The way of the wind through trees, the way is to be quiet. It is not that the night isn't over. It is me who forgot how to dream.

How far
is that star
shining most bright
in the sky, she asks.

As close as you fancy,
he answers
with a mystery smile.

How I wish
I could show you
the real me.

But the wind
of what is gone
yet lingering
sweeps the day
away
until I no longer
see.

Summer is kind.
Forests sway in soft laughter.
Meadows reveal brightness of their flower souls.
River streams resurrect willow shores.
Fields share breaths with clouds.
And our hearts discover paths that winters once dreamt about.

He knows her better
than the sky knows
blue infinity

Once a mermaid,
she is now
the soul of clouds,
raining down
on the shore
where he walks.

His world is heavy
and tearful,
though his eyes
are dry.

He still
doesn't realize
what his longing
means,
he still clings
to something
not intended
for him.

And though
it's too late,
his heart knows.

Since the beginning
his heart
knows.

Appreciate each moment of joy, each breath. And tell the ones you love that you love them. This comes from someone who is not sure where she'll be tomorrow.
In the essence, this is a beautiful world. Whatever happens. Breathe. Be.

Two cups
of cold midnight coffee

All that's left
for the morning

The scent of white lupine,

The mystery of open fields,

A slow poem of moonlight

Where you are

Lands of your raging hate
are now nothing to her.
She found the universe of love
in her own world.

How to overcome
strong fear
when it's hard to breathe?

Each syllable
of his dew poem
the moon's echo

Mini marshmallows
in the sea of cocoa
soft pink boats

Ancient streets
of wisteria and dreams
winding satori

Sometimes
each night
is an unending path,
where every breath
is a struggle

How incredible
is the heart's alchemy
when, once broken,
it dares to feel again

Every beat is a kind of magic

Performed under love's spell

How to describe a sudden flight
when you stay inside your body yet soar...
There is fear. great fear. You hardly breathe.
But at the same time you feel free from anger,
from any emotion that clutters your mind.
It's the glorious finding of yourself outside of self.
And when you return to body after some minutes,
there's a feeling of great calm.
Such calm that was unknown to you before.
You just feel...found.

Is there winter in her mirror?
This morning, she woke up to the sense of first snow.
Her roses bloomed. Still she was afraid to look at herself.
On the bridge, not far from her windows, someone held a dozen balloons, letting them float into warm sky, one by one.
One after one snowflakes fell in a parallel world.
She put her white linen dress on and went outside.

I'll meet you
where white-capped peaks
brush low dim clouds
and fir trees' spirits hover
above the silken silence
of stellar-scented grounds.

How deep is the wind that knows not where it comes from and where it goes?
I woke up to you forever, to lilac light in February. Nothing was lost, everything bloomed.
Approached a window with a view of oaken forests, where birds sing for the lost.
Am I on earth now? Or still immersed in that dream? Tell me, heart.

Social media
can be fatal
for a sensitive heart.

When 'friends'
expose your secrets
without a feeling
of remorse,
pretending they are just
'telling the truth'.

When people
accuse you of things
you never did,
making a drama
out of the fact
that your opinion
differs from theirs.

When jealous women
chase you
because they think
you are there
to conquer their men.

When strangers
gossip about
every little thing you write
making it into their own version
of your life.

Be careful on social media
if you have a sensitive heart.

Do you know what it is

to slip away, to not know
the quiet, the kiss,
the sanctity of a touch?

To see hands trembling
each time the wind
is more than a breath.

To long and long
for the truth of life,
yet stay out of its flow.

To lie, because
if you don't wear a mask
you won't survive.

Some people's
egos are so grand
that they keep on
creating enemies
in their minds
being afraid
to be connected
to the ones
whose point of view
is different from
what they pretend
to believe in.