Tiny grayish pebbles On a desolate shore Rolled by waves Towards my body lying in awe Rounded perfections Indifferent, uninvolved I pick one up Like treasure from the vault As if it was sacredness Sent from God Into my palm Avid, yet cold. The weight I feel But I am its shape The color I see But I am its fate. Substance, no longer, Limits of all Abruptly erased. Human, I am not, I am a cloud, A wave, A tree Anything that moves Or stands still, Existence I am, Vibrating comple

There’s a song in my head that I can`t write down; words are spinning me around, melodies are lulling me to sleep, but I won't fall asleep. Not yet. Not until I find your eyes following me to distant places. Not until I find your scent leading me through the maze of my feelings. Not until I find your hand comforting me through the sadness to come. Not until I love you and not until I write you a song. Oh, lonesome nights and wordless fights help me out! I roam the streets, I

Through the Word Prism If, by some magic, we were all made to write the stories of our lives, chances are that we would all easily realise how much our lives resembled fairy tales. In our stories, we all encounter bad characters, our plots are concoctions of twists and turns that we cannot see coming and yet, we stand victorious even if we are defeated, simply because every new day brings a fresh start. No matter how much we suffer, it is still left as an option for us to sta