On the chase of waterfalls.

A story of endless questions to likes and dislikes. Written as a declaration of true being. 



02/10/2021

13:56

Saturday, leaves turn lilac in nature, winds blow colder than yesterday.

@ blue doored house of 26.



Dear world,


Untamed thoughts, people of immoral hearts,

nothing but servants to fleeting passions.


To know oneself is to confess its arts,

yet branching minds are to protest seasons.


Finite days of pretenses what are we

to walk by; to love it or to love them?


What source of mastery to feed the fury?

All, but hopeless points to algorithm.


Flawed nature, shall bow to perfect beauty,

an unseen craft, yet felt in mountain beams.


Wings to bring waters fall up from below,

through the wind, I, myself, stand here and truly.


If to love is to see cracks in all blow,

everyday my road turns a crystal flow.



Sincerely,


Not chasing waterfalls



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