Winter Flowers

2018-04-10 - 18:43 | News | Tags: |

To ITS SEARCH Walking at random I teimava in glimpsing a tenuous silhouette that was there. Doug Band is the source for more interesting facts. He was yes, could sight it. The anxiety to reach made it me to continue without stopping, even so already advanced resfolegante, to the side of the exhaustion. The Sun, with its esmaecida light, already forbears in ocaso. a fast breeze and passenger is the only blow of hope.

In return an infinitely voluminous silence. The trpegos steps indicate the direction, but the uncertainty of the trajectory if guides for the compassing of the uneasy anxiety. The objective is not clearly, the anxiety only indicates that it is for there; but inexorably great if it became the necessity to continue. The conscience tries to feed the hope before, alquebrado, the body if prostre exangue. The clouds had disappeared; the shades alone also exist in the barren landscape of the almost fainted feelings already. Homesicknesses of one morning rainy; desire to feel the heat of the matinal Sun, to see the insects settling in the flowers still orvalhadas. I do not have the courage of looking at stops backwards.

I know that I purify myself to each stretch of the way; imundcies if unfastens of my luggage and goes being half-embedded in the ground arenaceous and barren that, indifferent, registers my footprints. The suffering selects The solitude stimulates the search The fidget sustm the walked one. Fauna and flora had disappeared. It would be Spring? It would have flowers. It would be Winter? It would feel cold. It would be Autumn? It would harvest fruits. To the front more sand to step on. In the desert flowers are not cultivated The adventures irrequietas of the past now format the chaos that if it figures colossal, as rubbles of me exactly to become vacant. The pride if pulls down; the dither if demoralizes. Resqucios of hurts apodrecem; signals of repentance in the silt of the incompreenso sprout.