by atma anna christ

It was really dark these days no one but the seaguls .

honeysuckle blooming … ate one flower 

we are much human so very unreal so very predictable so very alone ..

looking for meaning in cloud formations in sea waves in the patterns of the wind

In moments of silence and the little birds chirping in the morning and just before sunset

Hope is what makes death certain and life meaningless

Hope is living in the past that was never

something is blooming in the garden today and it’s called flower of surrender

something like being blown away by a hurricane trusting it 

How the defined can be undone

Love me tonight till the morning star…


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