Essence
The essence, it hangs by a string,
swaying in the breeze of the soul,
dripping into the minds of others, just
out of reach, suspended in space,
lost but visible, not invincible but
expressive, splashes of color,
fireworks on a cloudy day, sparks
through vapor, vanishing in air
wrought by hands wise and unseen.
Bạn đang đọc truyện trên: AzTruyen.Top