2023-03-11 16:44:02
I prepared myself feeling the need to visit the great love miracle the earth encountered. I am waiting for the ghost ship, the wind blows it in the last hours, before the last time stops in the deepest hours. Before the morning breaks like a blade over water. When a bird is afraid to fly in the darkness of the vision, I will ride the great wave of terror and disappear in a sea of darkness that has no limits.
About to meet love in its miracle; The one who walks on water step by step, knocks on his door, and fragrant wine I smelt. The walls carried beauty cohesive with drunkenness and affection carried by thunder and wind. The time is about to come, the long horizon is empty and there is no shadow of a ship's existence like a taut bow, but there is no sign of leaving.
The Realms Lighthouses fell without the sound of the wind, following the divine Marry. Every vector is permissible and the ways of the planets above the sky map have changed. Now lie a thousand sheep pointing to the yard and on the path of illusion they draw their short anxious line. There is no adventure, it is an abstract wandering in the open gloom.
I remember the dead, and the color of their tears in the flower—and perhaps they were all innocent before that—they did not die of hunger or thirst, even if they were thirsty, they died of delusion. A beautiful seabird has no shape, and blood may not bleed from a dead person. I remember the hidden cities of the seas I remember the dead, the sunken ships, the treasures and the ingots of refined gold, the shining eyes and the beautiful braids of hair in the resolution spread, the slender fingers of broken hands open.
I do not catch the waves In the shady paths at the bottom, the smooth rounded flags are scattered where the weapons of the great pirates rest. As long as you walk through the night and dig in the resolution. The layers of that death, the burials followed in silence, the dead I questioned.
In secret I watched enough, and I was the only living witness in a thousand massacres without memory, today was a feast and the loudspeakers said: Every human is here is a criminal until evidence of his innocence is established, and I heard the trumpets of the invaders blaring in the long night, and I saw how souls distorted generation after generation, and I was terrified by the brightness of my mirror: Perhaps I am like a monstrosity, a monstrosity torn by shadows. And I was amazed by her a tear in the heart that refuses to shed, and tears no matter how tender, is it enough for the elegy of beauty?
Time is realizing, a tremor of profit is reflected by the rocks, time is realizing, a wave is lamenting from the farthest reaches of time, time is realizing, I am not alone. The brave heart knows that visions are fulfilled, and the horizon is about to turn, I am waiting for the great moment. In the wall I am waiting and the black clock is pulsing—the pulse of a distant rhythm—its dance, swaying anxiously, leaning to the right to the left, from left to the right.
I see what was and then and what will be, and smell the scent of complete and maximum stillness. To never again represent the sufferings of the experience of the ages, not to break with tension, or continue to come, I saw Jesus in his misery, accompanied armies in the greatest conquests, intended to carry of coffins, sang for two thousand seasons, wandered in the land of beauty and reached the outskirts of shops and saw how the majestic cities are destroyed in.
Thus I said to the messenger that raise from fear:
1.7K viewsHubeyb , 13:44
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