The Threads of My Name    ~ truth, hope and... ~

The days of weaving a tapestry with my feathers



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voice of a flower

I ve been to paradice, but I ve never been to me...


What is this confusion all about...?

I m slowly realizing why I cannot break the ice for the life of me...

That was too simple, as simple as solving 1+1

I just dont wanna go there,

dont wanna have a look at the thing down there,

and just wanna stay here this nice and familier place.

"Why is that?"

"...I dont like the touch and smell of new things...I guess"


"....and also, I feel it's too tough to try to stretch myself throughout the new outfit..."

Thinking of the space and world is hopelessly too much

you know, how much I can handle right this moment

....with this pair of hands

dizzy..... dizzy.....

But you know, no matter how tough things get

Take one step further anyhow

Go and get involved.

Without doing that I will never ever dig, or even touch the ice, right?

...but actually, the thing is....

the ice will be melting soon on its own without being noticed.

So stay there

till I hear the sound of melted water, like the sound we hear in spring.

Listen... very carefully....

'cause the sound is as silent as the voice of flowers in my garden,

or of a flower in me.


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