I peel a pomegranate and say to myself; Weren't it good if one could see,the seeds of people hearts ; Tears come when the juice splashes in my eyes |
Life is a dimension of tree in the eyes of an insect. Life is strange sence experienced by a migrating bird.... |
We are not to comprehend; the secret of roses, but maybe swimming in the incantation of roses. Or may be looking for the song of truth between the morning glory, and the century. |