I come from a place Of green fields And muddy roads A tiny village Where folks sleep as evening folds. A beautiful place Caress by a calm river Sometimes she got angry By the stupid rainy season. Each living soul there Is bestowed with hope and ambition My village, My silent inspiration I come from this place, The illusion of heaven.
My posts are like an inn. Welcome in. Rest for a while and then sail into the sea of your lives. But remember the words, realize what I am going through, the circumstances. Maybe the words will help. That's just what I want. That's why I write. That's why I live. Or at least we will learn to irrigate the desert together. Thanks. Come again
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