“I wanted peace, they gave me silence.”

Her aura was warm and I was a naive sunflower, leaning towards her.

You can see heaven or earth in her pupils when she’s smiling, and happy for real.

I hope my poem touches your soul and tickles your feet. As it is a river, river of my molten heartbeats.

Death is the mercy of life on us.

Let me be a poem freely hung in your diary. Like the moon, on the night sky.

Your eyes looking into mine, this is how two eclipses collide.

Darling, do not teach your stars to shine. Teach them how to embrace the darkness.

He’s shy, he talks to her only. She’s bold, she listens to him only.

She’s never silent, you can always listen her soul speaking the tongue of poetry.

She is handpicked by nature to bleed. Look, how she makes pain bow down and plead.

Once the sky dreamt of kissing the earth and everyone called it horizon.

I hope this pain never eases and these wounds never heal. That’s how you keep lingering in scars, underneath my skin.

Night is a song, moon and sad people can sing along.

Worship her for the way she rolls her sleeves up and hums the silence of healing.

Poetry is an eulogy, sung for hope and love.

Rest your head on his shoulder more often. Earth blushes when a snowflake gently dozes off on it.

Find your personal peace and solitude in a turbulent world.

Artists are here to disturb the peace.

For all of us, love can be the natural state of our own being; naturally at peace, naturally connected, because this becomes the reflection of who we simply are.

As we practice meditation, we get used to stillness and eventually are able to make.

He is happiest, be he king or peasant, who finds peace in his home.

War is progress, peace is stagnation.

Choose peace over temporary pleasure.

The only way to abolish war is to make peace seem heroic.