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