Obwohl die Ströme der Worteuns unablässig überschwemmen,in den Tiefen unseres Ich herrscht das Schweigen auf immer. Khalil Gibran


19. 03. 2012.

When birds of sorrow come nesting...


Upon this  tree of thousand stars,

My demon gently plays the violin.

At the still point of the turning away,

Neither dance nor decline,

Not in this moment of time,

I see myself playing my own string;

And while the note lasts, it buries each day -

There he humbly smiles, feeding on my scars -

Come hither sweet birds, come resting.


                                             jadoablu


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