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Thunder lightings
fade out from horizon.
Hailstones crumble,
expire.
Winds abate the
storm clouds in a wishper.
Light finds its way
through penumbra.

Mild breeze reigns in
the blue skies, once restless.
Tides receding,
flat sea.
Crystal clear the
waters mirror my face.
I've found calmness,
my desire.

Winds could always erode the rocks
and the shiniest day
become the stormiest.

Even the most robust rampart
moistens when it rains,
its foundations get weaker
and faint.

The best roses can be sorrounded by poisoned thorns
or razor-edge bramble.
And the apple that looks the juicest
could always be
sour and rotten inside

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Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.