The argument of a dynamic mercy and the only place where I breathe in an arrogant atmosphere where words are poured out one by one. That harmonious flutter that I heard my head leaning against the chest of my pen.
What if the subject is deep?
After living in the deep.
Luscious grains of sand are my favorite of the hourglass: the cheerful sound of the cuckoo poking its head every hour.
The festivity in my voice.
Since my euphoria is my tape.
My story started that day.
I'm happy with the divine confidant of the angels in the sky, who are only visible to me and here I am at peace with my shadow, since most of the things that I think will finally and finally find their due date have not yet come to an end...
I'm holy.
My Divine Light.
I am no different than a flower blooming in the ground, and I am far, far away from misty hearts, and I met the night and my muse when my Lord had appointed the time for me to escape, and here I was before it was too late for my appointment.
What to write when I don't even know.
In the night, while hugging me tightly.
Alas!
My favorite words playing with the darkness and innocent as much as they are already clinging to my banner.
My color is light pink and the clouds send a little bit of blue to the sea inside me: a, yes, and the corridor I walk in, I think it's time to evacuate and I'm moving to the long narrow corridors of the night.
Seagulls are constantly accompanying them and the lullaby of the night is waiting for the day when they will fly out of their nests with their shouting call, or rather with the rush of growth, just as I expected, the interesting thing is that I don't even know what I'm waiting for.
The weather and the wind, which is the product of autumn, make my nose a little cold, so winter is coming slowly, after all, I need a hat that I have never knitted on my nose, at least for a lifetime when my nose does not grow.
My surrender is unconditional, to my beautiful Lord, and in any case, I deliver my words to the relevant address, and while each of them coincides with many emotions in the humble mobilization of colors, and if I get hurt during the day, I don't know the value of the night and because I don't have much pain, the words get a lot of air and they snicker at me from afar. .
I think I have made a secret alliance with my grief: the way I set out as destiny and the daily income of fate and bingo, which I face my pain with the violation of a letter!
In addition to the hurt, I will definitely pass the subtitles and read my feelings one by one, thanks to the patience of digging a well with a cloth and a pen, but what is this endless capital that actually made me write:
The rhythm of yesterday.
Rhythm disturbance of life.
Even though it seems like a simple operation, I have to open that clogged vein every night because of an attack I suffered from a direction I don't know on my way to life, and I have to open that clogged vein every night by writing, otherwise I will explode from the accumulation of emotions and ruin the night. How I rear up with the words that fill the blood in the veins after angiography, and how I both postpone the vegetative life and feel my presence with a thud.
Maybe I'm illegal.
Or non-theoretical.
Although, being a schoolboy doesn't help much, I have always decorated my life with education, but I know the infinity of knowledge, especially after I started writing, as the famous thinker emphasized:
“All I know is that I know nothing.”
I am one of those who believe that goodwill and love form the basis of knowledge, whether one is sarcastic or a schoolboy, especially isn't there that gate of heaven where love and knowledge meet...
Our Lord, who said "Read", while all the arrows on the earth were aimed at my chest.
While I am busy with learning and writing, I also feed my soul, of course, while the key to peace is the unity of faith and hope and the work that keeps us alive.
Colors are sometimes sad.
Love is memorable.
It's the stored repository of my subconscious mind that spent its life in overtime in my brain, and most surprisingly, my subconscious.
When so many words that I didn't use in a lifetime escaped from my lower memory...
In addition, I have witnessed that my dreams are recorded as well. My dreams, which I usually see as a movie script, often accompany my writings. in the wind and here's what makes me so close to me.
When I stand close, I feel the uninterrupted spirituality: asleep or awake; Even if I fall into trouble or enjoy it, my mind is always full of my Lord and my surroundings, the earth, the sky and the sky, and in every person I talk to or look at, I see a piece of Divine Love and I keep patience, moreover, I am grateful for every moment and hold my hope tightly, and I fall for everyone and every living thing. He is the Divine Power capable of everything that grows in the sky to me, to us, to animals, even to micro-organisms, to the earth, to the tree, to the grass, to the insect.
What difference does it make to my Mawla with my full surrender, when I know how to be revived by the pains I have suffered in the world, and He does not give us the burden we cannot bear, and the beauty of praising and the Divine Wind both cools and warms it incessantly?
