Le plus grand calme sait renfermer du mystère. Pour les personnes Conscientes, la manipulation des mots se sait importante ; la diplomatie a ici sa place, qu'importe la peine refoulée. Puis vint la chaleur des plus indescriptible, celle qui saura cajoler les moins martelés par la bêtise. Tout cessera brusquement, et toujours, vous vous demanderez si ce n'est qu'un songe de l'au-delà.
The whiteness of the clouds left behind by a plane, draw a line across the blue sky. Always, no matter to where, always continuing. As if it knew tomorrow. In my chest I breathed in a shallow breath. I remember the breeze that blew on my hot cheek. The hands and feet which are bound before the future, are freed by a quiet voice. So nostalgic that I want to scream out, is ne life, the midsummer light. At your shoulder, swaying, the sunbeams streaming through the leaves. The white ball at rest. The petals which have been scattered by the wind. The invisible river which carries both, singing while flowing on. Secrets and lies and joy, are the children of the gods who created this universe. The heart which is bound before the future, someday, will remember its name. So loved that I want to scream out, is one life, the place to return to. At my fingertips, the summer day which doesn't disappear.