This is about my happiness disguised in the middle of the
people around me, in the million simple blessings of my own existence …teaching me to love, guiding my way, breathing life into my dreams.
I find other people’s love and friendship inspiring. I find immense
joy in every smile, incommensurable hope in every wish, undying faith in every invisible
bond with those sharing a part of my soul. Forever. Nobody ever leaves my
heart. Once in there, they get permanent ownership rights. Though they are free
to go away if/whenever they please, they are always welcome to stay or come
back. Their presence is forever cherished, their roles are greatly acknowledged,
their memory lives on…and on.
I am so grateful. For every special person crossing my path,
for every positive thought they generate in my mind, for every sublime feeling that
lights away the darkness, unburdens the heaviness inside and heals my pains.
I’ve learned that my inner balance, self-confidence and life
wholeness depend on my relationships: my most valued gifts, my peace, my growth,
my becoming into a hopefully better person… I owe the better side of me to each
single friendship, to its genuineness and its uniqueness which, through
kindness, generosity, sweetness, devotion and love, makes my own journey
In truth, I would be lost without you. I would be nothing without you. So, THANK YOU!
Fire-lit windows staring outside A stranger hugging a carol-singer Next to the street light, Tinsel and mistletoe everywhere A new Christmas Eve for each Adam Snowing hours for the kissing Youthful and gloveless.
in the midst of night, at the quiet bottom of the lonesome mountain, dropped from the wings of the gentle breeze, a barn owl’s hoot stabs the thick darkness right through its heart the way a sharp lightening hits the frozen ground in the late of autumn. unheard infant’s shrieks, all numbed and forgotten, haunt the whereabouts of the missing hound lured by scents of blood from the greenwood sight vanished like a cloud when the storm is done no trace to be found, never found alive later than his wanderings. from a safe distance, the moon-howling echoes give a piercing notice of the new life’s courses secretly bestowing the surmised return of the sleepless hunter with a deadly thirst from his awful curses. in front of his temples seduced by his flare the two rowing columns of young, silent pines lean down, one-by-one in a pitch-black courtesy with the pristine heath following behind him. the long pebble trail, overgrown and cold, covered in his scent and the pine needles urge my hasty steps to the same old place of no real escape and decrepit home to the savage folks who had their own souls forever estranged. what is more, once more, he’ll refuse to grow old and from time to time, dry cries will be born in his Carpathian castle, summoned by the flesh, induced by flash floods. hereby, at his doorstep, his long-denied burning, all his broken trust, wicked games of lust, caged inside this fortress, the pretend death coffin, whose transparent vault both quenches and chains my loyal persistence with the fatal promise of eternal love, are fully accepted. any day or night now, free from the past drought, with the worst of both tempted by desire, in this sinful dungeon a cold, ivory sharpness much older than fire, will enable fate to redeem the best of our damned romance, and its preordained, much too vain existence up the mountain top.