Now I walk and I have eyes. Now walk and see. Now I breathe and smell the earth of the field, asphalt smoke. I feel a finch cage is not being caught and felt the landscape evolves. I am a leafless lime 'm living for the season. My face is marked by deep plows, were months my hair dark while it snowed in the middle of August, and the blue of my eyes still stray. However, straightens the steering wheel and looking for the light where it was.
not suddenly, my mind begins to spin into thinking they are harmonious and the umbilical cord of sadness that I clung breaks up.
growing tiny wings to fly soon.
I do not trust the flashes, I am aware that there are still dark moons, but that I can go without calling my smile and reach out without waiting for me down.
If someone who is immersed in the wells flooded with darkness, read these lines, simply telling them not to lose hope for after a bad stretch, there is a path where to walk again.
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