I'm drilled into dreams!
Don't close your eyes; I'm afraid of the dark
Horsemen lose their way, my longing
The homing pigeons don't come back to my country
I flow into the desolation like mournful streams
Don't close your eyes; I'm afraid of the dark.
My wish is also love.
My Lord, I shed tears all around me and I love myself to the fullest, so that my smiles may rain mercy on the barren land of the season I planted.
Words deprivation maybe our assets.
I am happy with my body, which I have trained with poverty and hunger, and the long years that I was thirsty and starved.
Sentences are my lifeline.
I was the bagel that I nibbled on love.
If it's love, it's my dream and my mourning and my temple, even my mourning.
I laugh if they touch.
I cry when they don't touch...
I have no settings.
If it is silence, it is my world and myself that I imitate, and I calm the wind of loneliness. Every time I remember him and my soul I sink, of course to longing, of course to love.
If I'm longing, we're uniform.
In my dreams, sometimes you are destroyed.
My flower that blooms on the ground, sometimes I release my soul to the wind and suddenly I am positioned in the sky.
Here I am the North Star.
Here I am, the sultan of the sky and the moonlight, my existence and my shining heart, but from my cold and falling eyes, I am enchanted not by the endless drops of faith and the fury of love, but by the sincerity and sincerity of love.
I love nonstop.
I'm suffocating with pain.
When I'm stuck in a narrow corridor, I come out to fresh air.
Words and flowers and colors.
The dark eyes of the night and the hazel glare that I brewed my eyes do not end their troubles, I am enjoying my life, but I am also famous for my humanity.
There are so many emotions that I take advantage of and reject.
If it's a rebellion, repentance left in my past.
If it's a rematch, what's wrong with my yesterday?
If there is a God, there is no sorrow.
Faith and love hidden in the fabric of peace, and my crazy heart is always on the top, where I sometimes dive and go far, and sometimes I see the bottom, but with my poor heart.
I am a dead dream: contemplating immortality
an endless fire
Tired of loving and running away
The tent of longing is in the form of the cloud it has set up
I'm a clumsy lover
gentle climate
I'm the wind of your madness, your heart
quelling the rebellion
A star hidden in the sky
Maybe that vigilance is hidden in my heart.
summoner of desolation
My blue dress and my eyes
The mercy that rains in arid climates
five in one feelings
and my soul
And my wrath
And my huge loneliness...
my cistern mourn
My temple that I wash with love.
bouncing on the earth where I was refuted
a blunt bullet
A blind bird from its nest
I'm hiding in ember syllables
Out of the ashes with my indomitable faculties
i was born
A hidden whistle
A pure life where I missed love.
I have unofficial dreams, which I have to give credit to, while my smiles are the interlocutor of love most of all, and I am a frequenter of dreams, I also live in the wheelhouse and on the gilded road of my soul and on the gilded path of the unknown, I not only open my hands, but of course I surrender myself to the unknown every time I fall into the unknown.
A milestone is hidden in the moment.
The expiration date, on the other hand, is focused on yesterday's tomorrow.
Like a sun-faced traveler and a dervish, I go back and forth like a sun-faced traveler and a dervish, my heart is my boat of hope and hope, I am born again and I give birth at the end of hope and its manifestation, I am born again and I give birth to thousands of emotions, the dome and the buffoon, the darkness and the whirling dervish my heart is a peerless wind that takes me far to the beauties that I can't even imagine I'm getting acquainted.
Love in the heart of Universe.
Those who follow me hidden in my tail like a star dragged in the clusters of the sky.
An I and I will never be in two again, and I am divided inside, I am decreasing with aftershocks, I am getting smaller and bigger, I am blowing inwardly with the touches of the feelings hidden in the pendulum of hope and the pendulum of hope, and with the touches that do not have the name of my Lord in his sovereignty.
Season or spring is what I live in a day.
While I am the temperament of hope, I lie on the breech of the season, and in its spiral clouds sometimes I fall for mercy, sometimes I feel the meaning of my existence by disappearing into nothingness, and every conclusion I reach leads me to God's Love and to the power of love, I bounce in the supplication of love like birds, the season of migration is almost like the ticking of my heart and a dripping tap in the rhythm of every night: that I am sometimes promised in silence and drowned in peace and happiness in the noise of my heart.
That smiling signature that I came to life with the nuance of love and put under my heart because it is mine...
