The war in the soil.
The seeds are too young to fight.
While the eyes breathe
the guilty still feel no remorse.
The cobwebs with knots.
Across the blades of harvest
improper dreams wrinkle the chilhood.
Wihtout any cries
and without any touch
the cadles are left behind.
Bleeding
through hopeless unconsciousness
it seems that rainbow gushes through me.
And rainbow-colored
I leak out onto the hope.
A silhouettes of the eyes
folllow me
to the warmth of times
Only the innocence
grows the conception.
Held in the dust
the pain of wisdom.
The trust is through hope.
Inside each fragant branch
the colors of love...
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