A medium of perpetual reflections
that never swing
                   between the  antecedent
occasions that were between now.

For a horizon never setting is rising
before the winding fractions that
             perceive the timely momentum
going forth before every step.

The past is a frame of what is expected,
        what was learnt as mistakes.
Guiding us to not misstep on those
          faults but build bridges forward.

We have so many memories to make,
               so many pages not yet written.
But every page is a footstep and were
only half way through our novel
                                         of life's moments.

the dark streets of the foot went
He closed his eyes and began to recall
the sea has come to mind
far distant years
when I lived not in Russia
but lived in Italy
when I lived not in this century
when I lived not in this century

eyes closed
and the light caught fire stronger
and all was suddenly covered by the darkness of the evening
darkness of night blue then again morning
o I remember again how I wandered
how I wandered without thinking about anything and at all
and from the night until the morning at sea admired
admired my eyes my soul my night
in heart

12.08.18

I'd repeat the same song,
for how it reminds me of you.
Every bit of words,
takes me back to you.
Beats by beats,
this heart suffocates.
On how you broke me,
years ago.