I sit and i stare ,
i glow those thousand flares ,
in the silence with aroma of piece ,
build up by the attar in ferns .

i flew and i fear ,
i cry as i share ,
with the awe of the shade and sky above .

on the edges of night ,
sitting in the verge of the fear ,
when sun is never definit
and the coal inside had smoked up the dark ,
burning it all with a silence in chords ,
like chimneys .
when eternal darkness has it's way to the thoughts ,
end up having those large breaths in fog ,
lasts too long never to fade away .

now i am that weak and that weary ,
that falls on the slurry ,
on and on for the thousand times ,
smile as i lose then start ,
laugh once in all ,
with the wierd clinging in veins ,
as i make free fall .  ,
smile as if there'll be no more edges ahead .

how beautiful is the idea ,
that we keep .
moreover it's just a seed ,
been planted a little deep ,
which is nourished all along,
to be vulnerable when someone peeks,
how hard is it then to let go of the same ,


things of beauty never last ,
the joy in the bliss of the word great ,
clenched wrist , hard we tried ,
yet they all fade ,
for the thinnest of it , which we belong,
our feet already shaped ,


like the sand on the coast ,
they are vast and ashore ,
when hands been stretched far too long ,
for the land offshore ,


things of beauty , hard to keep ,
while awe of it unfolds ,
the very ounce on the skin ,
moaning the same old chorus .


and for your feet there is few ,
whenever the shape seems small ,
or sand is due ,
i will be glad to offer mine ,
but i am someone off thy shore ,
selling sand ,
far and too forgotten to find.