This is like a shelter set up between the long way to termination. At one time when the transition fades out, it loses its glitterness to shine and reflect. I am more towards the physical end of a shelter now, after struggling for months. It's a teasing part of the internal breath. When air goes in, it echoes the choke, and air goes out like a set-free butterfly. These days, I have a slim touch to eternity in my mind, dreadfully a voluminous signal to death and faith. A call of rebound, and the wandering wind goes like the smoky end, thin and fine. I pretend to let myself deep under the gloomy roof of nowhere. When the end approaches, everything flows back to evolution. I am waiting for another 2-3 weeks for another rapport of reflection through the changes of daylight into vapour and marine blue. Life is a practice of cathing roundness spheres. The orbit does not necessarily go ahead of you... --> www.zirhc.blogspot.comLibellés : butterfly, self |