It’s quite enough…

The small drops of soft snow are falling down from the cotton-like clouds in the sky and melting on my eyelashes and the lines on my hands… I see a small piece of green grass on the ground but the snow soon devours this variety of colour… No movement, no sound, no… Only snowdrops… slowly and silently… freezing my hands and my heart… No colours… no songs… no Renaissance…

 

I’m sick and tired of winter…

 

The colourful leaves fall down slowly and silently… I see the same green piece of grass on the ground but it again disappears in the colours of the fire… Red and orange leaves are falling down on my head and my arms… Burning my brains and scorching my heart: red leaves burn my red heart, orange leaves turn into ashes my orange dreams… Green leaves are too far and dead to see all this…

 

I’m sick and tired of autumn…

 

Such a pity that my heart has two halves…

Winter is in one half of my heart, autumn in the other one… one half of my heart is white, icy and frozen, the other one is red, burning and covered with orange flame… These two halves hate each other and try to demolish themselves with their hatred…

 

I’m sick and tired of this war with myself…

 

I don’t need a whole valley of flowers, dandelions and butterflies…

A daffodil is quite enough…

 

I don’t need a church full of white doves…

One waving white flag is quite enough…

 

I don’t need a world of kindness and summer…

One loving heart is quite enough…

 

I don’t need someone- pure and innocent…

A faithful soul is quite enough…

 

I don’t need a thunderstorm and an expensive book to write what I think…

A sheet of paper and a pen are quite enough…

 

I don’t need wealth and fame…

Someone to read my words written on the sand or a sheet

 

of paper is  quite enough…

 

I’m sick and tired of lies and dreams…

What I’ve already had is quite enough…

 

Phantoms…

What happens to the paper
When the words disappear,
When there are no ways left,
When the sun is getting older…

What happens to the fall,
When the rain becomes a bottle,
And swears to stay in the pantry of pain
Till the world shrinks into a rain drop…

What happens to the craze of lights,
When the colors get lost in the dark,
When your dreams become a dot
In a black and white painting…

Who lives there in the world
When you heart becomes a breathless shell,
Which winds dance around the hair of clouds
When the songs decide to hush their sounds…

When your soul turns into a handful of sand
And lies motionless on the bottles of life,
Which desperate hearts stifle their pain
In the flawless streams…

When your breath is getting robbed,
What flies there in your lungs,
When the air turns into flames
And burns you…

Now see what happens to me
When my soul desires to gulp down
The liquid of life in the lost pantry of rain
And never get alive anymore…

When it’s not scared of getting burnt to ashes
When it’s nor scared of getting vanished
In the endlessness of fall
Amid the darkness…

When it is just a sound
That can’t be heard anymore,
When the motions stop,
When there is no time left for prayers…