The rain is loud now, As if a giant feet arises from the clouds To step on the river under the bridge of my heart And disturb it in such a way That the sails of ships bend, And the water touches the bridge from below, Tickling it to sorrow… The rain is loud now, But actually, it has always been like this. You were there once, And I never felt it. But now, All there is Is this sorrow That tickles me from inside, As if it wants me to laugh, Yet doesn’t let me At the same time…
Life is holding a baby's hand and watching it smile,
Life is letting butterflies sit on one's finger,
And letting flowers bloom.
Life is short,
Wild,
Now.
Life is a kid sneezing at irritating dandelions,
Life is a tickled baby,
Laughing,
Rolling over,
Laughing again in its sleep,
Dreaming of being tickled.
Life gives and life takes.
Life is the wick that burns on,
And the chandelier that crashes down.
Life is the stone standing still,
And the boulder rolling downhill.
Life gives and life takes even more.
But we all go through it;
This thorn,
This flame,
This swamp of molten iron.
We all go through this
And come out disabled,
But alive enough
To gather our broken parts
And fix ourselves for the better.
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