(A prose which was written few months back)
(f or some of my friends whom I lost sadly today) …..
for those whom are SO holy in my mind,
I steal from my thoughts few thoughts,
for whom called warriors and poets….
those who create
from the end start, from the failure success..
whom they have so odd stories, filled by
pain and long ways of trials,
their aching souls witnessed many traps…
they never stop despite the stabs
their success is the journey… the taste
of that rest after
walking the long hectic ways..the rest of the
bleeding feet..the taste of
admireres whom with them so long
differ…
the demolishing which build in them
a tower.
the pure feeling which born from a
suffer,
the deep vision, the wisdom which heal and recover
Warriors and poets.. do talk while
they walk..they do not sit or rest,
chairs are created for the guests but not for the
hosts..
.. that day found my self standing again and alone,
that moment only i felt again free..so
happy i was
soaring and realized that i’m a seed of a
warrior..perhaps i’m a seed of a poet
I walked my long way again once again to
start again, at the end i sang for the
freedom…my freedom from that
chair.. it was a few
moments after my success
which can be considered as a failure by
others
that day….
one girl said to me..you are a fish and have been thrown to sea
but that sea rejected me when discovered that i’m not a fish but another sea
what a beauty, what a greatness when you belong to you, when no one own you, when your soul stay always soaring when your soul stay free
free..free..free
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