My tree of love that I planted with the sun that never goes out inside me

My turbulent basket of emotions and the wind of love, and here I am my muse in inspection, imitating trees.

Never a me that the sky is tangent to.

I'm never a trap for me.

Many memories of yesterday, many shouts left in my heart.

While the sultan and compliment of love, poems are at the stop of hope.

My eyes and the ocean inside me are fond of the periphery of love to the last year.

I'm not getting old.

I never invoke a servant of a god.

My heart is not dubious, and that dynamic season hidden inside me.

I am addicted to post-June winter and the sadness that the winter sun provokes the most, and the next time I fall, instead of embracing the new year again, I am reminded of myself and my joy is growing.

The faint rhythm of the night.

An exuberance of love and hope.

Is it the residue of yesterday and last year?

Even if life passes with vigilance, I, however, offer dictations to the rough wind inside me, but it is not enough this time, I make eye contact with the sky dome and the sun suddenly rises inside me.

My concerns are at present.

My fears and also: I am afraid of losing my loved ones the most, and I am afraid of not being able to write, and my increased resistance, my pupils and covered dreams, sometimes I fall into bigger dreams than I thought, and I know that I am cold, sometimes a dream or a reality, at least the way I fell with my inner dream is Lord of love. The one who protects me when I am and I get up and walk again every time I fall.

The rhythm of the night is now lost.

After all, all the colors are asleep and the eyes of the love are your captivity, and even if you have the color of black, the captivity of love to black.

My passion is for love.

Is it my bundle of sadness?

I just left it in a mosque courtyard.

The quilt covering me?

Even though I did not succumb, I threw it off me and the angels sprinkled flowers on me so that I wouldn't be cold.

Sadness.

Your pains without race.

Words that offer initiative.

May the years when I went to the eyes and lamented shall remain in yesterday.

Solitude shadows and also.

Who cares about the innocence while bathing in the river, the shade black?

The ring I wear is never a diamond made of iron, but thanks to people with a heart like a diamond, I finally understood my own worth and here is the last day of the year as a gift to myself and my hope.

If it's a pendulum working inside me.

The smug words? I've already thrown it away, of course, I ignore the shortcomings of the old year now, and I smile at the angels when someone calls me a missing skirt and talks about me.

I'm not lost this year either.

Since I have made thousands of sentences from the words left over...

Black coals and paper boats while hidden in my dream mine…

What remains unchanged?

It is the last days of the year when I have changed a lot, and I instill my enthusiasm on the paper and I plant words in the clean spirit of the night again.

A genetic love is mine and I am as happy as I am sympathetic and empathetic.

The concept of multiplicity.

to be one.

to be united.

I am not alone, I am never alone.

With an unquenchable sun inside me and the tree of love I planted, I am growing too, yearning to reach an incredible maturity, and I am tending to the child in me, and yes, a part of me still insists on being a child, but I insist on being happy too, and I pull everything about sadness out of my dictionary.

It is not an eternal life that awaits me, but I think about my destiny, not the possibilities, so much as I have surrendered myself and all my loved ones to my Lord, my peace is growing and so are my pupils.

Emotions affecting my heart eyes...

Anything that abides by love.

Who I am is also important because there is no "me" other than me, moreover, I think and call one by one, not the life I have spent, but the experiences I have gained, my feelings and my friends.

Even though it seems like a weak word, "I" follow many quotes overflowing from my heart and the hope that is never stolen.

Even though I know that everything will not change at once...

Even when I had just deciphered the code inside me and the blind knot I was entangled in, my prayers that did not fall out of my tongue, and every time I brought words that I felt great pleasure, my mother calls out from the next room, where I embraced peacefully:

We travel the old year and all the pain left in the old year.

The rhyme of hope is every new beginning.

Hope and faith are wheels of peace and love.

While I was sworn to decipher the secrets hidden inside me and in the universe growing with love.

I wish you a happy new year, my dear friends and all humanity...