Food for soul

by the rough shores

She walks on narrow streets

Roaming with people

Everything seems so empty

In this floating city…

Empty eyes, burned cheekbones

Wild looks and languages

That are strangled by expired words

Which are out of hope.

By the rough shores

The waves still speak though

They speak of unfamiliar poems

Dialects that were put to die and

Dreams that were not even born.

Rough and surreal

Untold stories are dancing in the abys

Waiting to be heard…

But one day, carried by the wind

They will rise and they will

Create a new sky

Filled with sunshine and blue…

A glowy sea

At the shores of a lighthouse

Called love.

I am a spiritual nomad looking for trouble! I love travelling, writing is my favourite form of expression and I will never say no to coffee! I dedicate my free time in practicing yoga and meditation as well as learning more about transformative education and development. I also love dancing and I could talk forever about love. :)

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