I remember you as you were in the last autumn. You were the grey beret and the still heart. In your eyes the flames of the twilight fought on. And the leaves fell in the water of your soul.
Clasping my arms like a climbing plant the leaves garnered your voice, that was slow and at peace. Bonfire of awe in which my thirst was burning. Sweet blue hyacinth twisted over my soul.
I feel your eyes traveling, and the autumn is far off: Grey beret, voice of a bird, heart like a house Towards which my deep longings migrated And my kisses fell, happy as embers.
Sky from a ship. Field from the hills: Your memory is made of light, of smoke, of a still pond! Beyond your eyes, farther on, the evenings were blazing. Dry autumn leaves revolved in your soul.
by , Pablo Neruda . Pablo Neruda ( 1904 - 1973 / Parral / Chile )
E great moment of lyfe wont necessary be e things you do , or all of those things that happend to you . im not saying you cant take action to affect e outcome of your lyfe .. you have to take action and you will , and never forget that on any day , you can step out e front door and your whole lyfe can change foreve . i dont put e ' r ' in forever because , thats e end of forever and you see , e universe always has a plan , and that plan are always in motion . lyke , a butterfly flaps its wings and it started to rain . its a scary thought , but its also kinda wonderful . all these little parts of a machine constantly working making sure that you end up at exactly where youre supposed to be , exactly when youre supposed to be there , at e ryte place , at e ryte tyme . e doors of lyfe are always open anywhere at anytyme ..
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I'm 16 , hysterical , optimistic , daydreamer , independent and i live lyfe with simplicity . writing is a passion fer me , music is something i listens to all the time . i tend to believe everything is possible . lyfe of his is always full of ups and downs . love is something i find hard to understand .. I am happy . dont act as if you know me even if you do ..