A Nomadic Soul. A Restless Mind.
For a seed to turn into a tree
It takes time
Life is said to be a blessing, but often it feels like a burden. A burden we are too weak to…
What is it that makes one sing?
The melancholy of winter?
Or the joys of spring?
What makes one want to dance?
The beats of a drum?
I am torn between two selves
One stoops low, the other soars higher