THE WAY OF LIFE

life is like a maze , a paradox

from birth till 10 years old :
we love life , thinking every little thing is an adventure .

from 10 to 20 :
 we are in love with a misterious identity , every thing is either very good or very bad , nothing in between .

from 20 to 30 :
we are old enough to judge almost everything , right all the way , never wrong .

from 30 to 40 :
wanting more , more , and more

from 40 to 50 :
 opened all the doors , went through all hidden ways ... nothing is new

from 50 to 60 :
oh, if only we could go back in time .

above 60 :
we discover we didnt know mush , and we die without knowing ...

so you will spend all your time trying , but you wont open all doors , or fully understand its Inscriptions .

Mind Bar

Mind is like a box of chocolate
overheating will lead to the formation of dark shapeless mass with no meaning at all .

On the other hand
over cooling will give it a useless , rocky shape , denying it from its identity .

So , use it wisely .... dont take the wrong turnes cuz who knows

...

DOOR AND A KEY

thought i had it all

the moon , the stars , and the dust of dawn

but i only had a key that led to one memory

a key with a crystal name curved in

wich door does it open ?

i really didnt know

had only one chance , to escape this circle of broken roses

sealed ways of gold , so shinning but non the less so cold

lost in my own thoughts i didnt see the time as it pass by

the leafs have fallen from the ceiling , to cover the misty roads outside

angels closed their wings , avoiding the sad winter's snow

and as life left with the last breath of a season that passed

I FOUND MY SELF WONDERING

why taking an empty road when i was  safer here

 once i thought i had it all

the moon , the stars , and the dust of dawn

now i here remained

watching the crystal letters curved on my key glittering silently

as they took their way into their final sleep .

NEW PATH

SOME  see with an eye of an angel , others see with the eyes of devils

 
Some choose to walk in the bright sun light

loving how clear skies show above waterfalls
How the whispering wind hug the trees , 
they walk .. love .. kiss .. Choosing heart beats and shining souls. .

 
Yet , others prefer to remain in shadows

walk the quiet path under the soft moon light
Play silver melodies of a violin between the stars

no feeling and no colors
Just  the cold refreshing breeze and the peaceful candle light .

 
So How do u choose ? , with path would u follow ?
Whenever u walk u see

happiness , joy , future , cries , pain , Betrayal .…
filled with opposite thoughts 

 
Life is sweet , so sweet and bright
But also is death , calm and comforting

 
Non is better , non is higher , both are the same
So What will u really choose ?

organ player

The building stand still , dark ... empty .. and quiet .
No light on the front door , no sound but the whispers of my dead melodies .
Over and over the melody will cross the gates and the fractured walls .
Again and again will hear it those who still linger on the other side .
As i am condemned to set here and play till the end of time .
From the outside they stand and watch , the young ... the old .
Fearfully they watch , seduced , possessed .
But dare not step through my wooden gates .
So here ill keep waiting
Wandering between the Millstones of time .
Listening to the wind in this abandon hall .. and playing on these rusty keys .... FOREVER .

BLACK INK

Not because i looked ... i saw
Not because i heard ... i understood
Not because i am breathing ... i am alive
I crushed , drowned into the oblivion lond ago
The sun no longer light my road
The moon no longer can observe my steps
Cast out from the circle
Standing somewhere in between
Drawing the ghosts of my own mind
Writing the screams of my own soul
Speaking words i don't know , painting on the wall of time ... but my signature is not below .
Soon my black ink will dry , the passing minutes will darken the walls , crash the papers into dust and my ink will no longer be seen.
And ill slowly turn to a memory carried to the grave of forgetfulness .
But yet ill hold my black bottle of ink , and ill draw the line one last time .
Because i looked once ... and i saw
I heared once ... and i understood I breathed , danced , laughed ... and once upon a time ... i was alive .

nothing

is this rain on my cold window  ?

this silver light i see , is the moon already full ?

counting the seconds till the flame melt down , till the room gets dark

the music didn't stop yet , cant stop playing this song

i can hear the footsteps in the doorway

turned but could only see the shadow

the steps finally stoped , but the music didn't

as i kept playing the flame grew less , the rain already stoped .

quiet , so quiet in here , hardly can hear the sound of my own fingers on the piano keys .

i know he is behind me , i know why the flame died suddenly .

eyes sealed shut ... is this really the end ?