For all the people who are on the night train alone thinking about the beauty of the world - lonesome reflectionFor all the flowers that bloom after long wintersFor all the unsung heroes who were once villainsFor all the mistiest of souls who were once lost but now foundFor all the bloodshot nights and days that go untouched by loveFor all the cowards that will brave the fearFor all the boys and girls without a father figure, and a mom'sFor all those addicted to those betraying kinds of love and beauty and who don't yield in to anymoreFor all the momentum poets understand and loseFor all those people who will find love and for those who won'tFor all those that struggle with forgiveness and want to steer clear of hurtFor all those that fail to creep into the cosiest of don'ts and do'sFor all those that risk their lives to gain eternityFor the eternal, sacred time component orbiting around historical timeFor all the love left untouched, spread on the crumbs of humanity and the failure of a promiseFor all those unspread layers of niceties that hold true to a direct approachFor all the dappled sunlight that shines through trees in late afternoons while squirrels are playing and woodpeckers are hammering onFor all those slow trains that travel through the gorge through tunnels carved in stone, sort of time tunnels stuck as in a time capsule revealing bits of wonders - leaves and berries you could touch out of the train windowsTo your soul window that opens into other shut windows, soul windows, and does not care to shut but stays openFor the small towns, seemingly innocent and pure, when no soul is there to be seen in the early hours of the morning. Then, as the day is progressing, the town would eat away at its light while the dark would still dig the light out - rocks of the solid foundationPhoto: Personal Archive Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

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