המתת השור

donnot think that there is anything less in you because you donnot write poetry the way i do...life makes us dépendent on one another just because of this : I would  not be able to exist without  your admiration. If it is a gift that I have been granted with by being able to draw the pictures of my mind through words, then you are the greatest gift by being the receiver of that gift...and I am nurished by the spiritual nurishment of your appreciation, by your delight, by the mere stare at your stare...   I try and still am, trying to seek for the truth and beauty is one of them. our senses give us this capacity to appraise first and foremost and then,they let us feel and thus, they let us seak, and they let us go deeper, and seek further, to understand better what is the source of our hapiness   often, there is a core...but this core is hidden Under others, cores ...if at least one of them is attainable and reached in our life time, then we know at least the way, thus enabling us to trust more and more our instinct; as we are; as what we are; an ever reaching and shifting individual in need of the others...   poor little lingering and clinging individual humans we are...when reaching its hand to god and asking : do we exist really through your eyes only, when the answer is ever echoed by the same sentence turned upside down... I was a lonely little craving animal when I was a little girl. I seaked for echoe and the noise of loving. I had none. I spoke my verses to the desert and there I went to meet it all alone...by myself. placing myself at the center of it, i turned my gaze all around and found nothing. but nothing else than my own self, as a tree, as a seed, as a grain of salt, as nothing but a bunch of emotions shared with another universe.