All of the storiesthat remain untoldare not hidden,they are yet to unfold
When I think about the presentI think about life in a handbasketas if I could carry…
On a cool, silent evening,the light falls and the growing darknessveils my soul…
A spoonfulof dreams;
My time is shortand the years grow shorterand time is hunting me downfor all the wasted days.
If you see a birdfalling from the blazing sky,that is me.