I've always looked for the way to freedom

The wind that cools the nooks and crannies of my heart.

In a moment of anxiety

And love hand claw sofa

With the endless heat of words…

All day long at the fountain of broken hours

We met on the wing of a wounded pigeon

We washed the fear that bled in our souls

Those who lost their sadness admire us now

A book that looks at our soul.

I embraced the sky because it was my Lord: who loved me, who made me love me.

The wind in me was worthy of love...

Ah, the essence of faith and love, while a lifetime that I was fascinated by was hidden in the embers of love that ripped my heart out at every turn in every revenue…

Who was I anyway?

Neither arrogant nor spiteful.

On the rooftop, love is a human being who is recited to sermons, and as he remembers his Lord and here is an effective medicine that spreads peace to every second.

The dawns I counted.

Pages counted.

The nicks I have counted are the only ones that remain in the past and even save the day, and the only one that does not leave me: That Divine Light.

Does the shelf life of people and love end?

You know, I never wonder where he fled to those who call him "my friend", especially after the last few years, I'm confused and if I don't have a Lord to witness that I carry a child's heart and the light that does not leave me after all...

Could I really stand the cruelty of this world?

Those who know love as ungrateful and idolize it, or those that I cannot step into their glass mansions...

Besides, while I loved without expecting anything in return, I got people in some way in return, almost everyone and everything that happened from the very beginning.

Nobody taught me about hate, I didn't even wonder, and I always believed in those who hid their hatred, I didn't even think of suspecting that hate is a possibility until I escaped to the planet of the living dead, whoever I know and don't believe in.

I'm writing these lines from the wings of a bird and I'm putting a kiss on the forehead of the injured bird and once I put an end to it, it will go away with its friends, but I know it will never leave me.

To abandon or be abandoned.

Is it a delayed feeling or do people always like season or half a mouth?

I set out with my mouth full, and I haven't laughed since I was four years old when I first remember myself, but I always smiled and believed, but I didn't get stubborn with my destiny.

Who/whatever I love and value…

I fell in love with my profession out of the blue. Out of nowhere, I lost my job.

I escaped from hell and not those who violated my paradise, it didn't even occur to me to be angry, although I thought later why I wasn't loved but I didn't give up and I didn't give up and here I shot the ball to my own pen and I always succumbed to myself and my heart was always burned for a lifetime and nobody I loved unconsciously, I loved so much, and the Divine Light was within me, in my eyes.

Sometimes my life is offended.

I'm ignored.

Sometimes, with breaks that lasted for two or even three years, I was flagged without anyone knowing that I was actually being watched.

But I didn't give up.

I found a new job, I'm going to fall in love again.

I'm back to the beginning; I went back to school; I went back to the amps.

What were my peers doing?

It didn't even occur to me, I didn't even think that I was jealous.

My dream world was wide and I shared my dreams and I saw that the person I shared with me took my dreams and turned their back on me.

All that is left of yesterday.

While living the worse as of the moment and the day…

But isn't it always tried? Because there was worse.

Oxygen in my soul.

The fire in my heart.

My body is confused.

I'm sleep deprived.

And here is the whiny child in me that I started to sing a little lullaby.

What color am I?

Since the pain had no race, and I came to terms with my mourning, my hope lost its momentum, and then my sadness peaked, but I found people who would love and believe as if I was constantly throwing wood into the fire inside me.

Three.

Two.

One.

It was the one who said shut up, that's the number in one digit and I always ran back and while my borders were violated, I did not give up the struggle.

Bitter or not, I drink.

Maybe life was a gigantic image.

Poems, on the other hand, are the hallmarks of life and a great power: when I was the epitome of love, the ink mark on my wings and overtaking, not life, I always healed the pain and here was my best man, love and hope, and I was put in the heart of the pen, in fact, it was the whole universe, I envied the migratory birds that landed on the branch in my heart, I circumambulated the world with a life and my soul and I knew the universe and on the eve of an exodus where I belonged and with that sense of total surrender.

Even if what I wrote gives way to a poem or to thousands of poems, life is already a poem, and since I knew myself, even in those cold buildings, I always turned my head out of the places where I worked. then my route became clearer because there was someone calling me to the top, so even though I had seen the bottom many times, my eyes were on the highest, of course, that path and sky dome illuminated by the Divine Light.

If I'm going to make a profit, first of all, I get out of all the negativities I take out of life and arrive on the road, and it doesn't matter if I'm late, after all, the right time is the right place determined by fate, the only goal that I sometimes struggle with, but which I somehow overcome with the power of faith and love, and which is hidden in my struggle, of course. With my surrender, I continued my Lord's life, which tasted like a poem, albeit with a delay.