The poetry is the deep philosophy of the cry and laugh.
It is the unseen language which touches our soul bitterly and joyful.
The poetry is the skin of sensibility and the incredible race among the clouds.
It is the pouring of the blue sky in our opening hearts.
The poetry is the art of the mess
That far world which told you what’s behind the galaxy.
It is our previous feelings and the forthcoming ones,
When we believe in spirit and science and madness.
The poetry is finding the detail in someone’s eyes.
It is the means of this amazing ability to read the maps of souls.
It is the smell of honey and the necessity of wings and the tragedy of nights.
It is the long walk in the land of the imagination.
The poetry is more than contemplating the moon through a night.
It is more than just rhythm and free verse.
More than the extraordinary words and the visual scenes.
It is what’s beyond breath,
What beyond the sea,
And what beyond the legends
The poetry is discovering the hidden smile of the orphans.
