There....

Let me fly,
into cold wind and sweet silence,
above clouds that drifts below,
over green meadows.


To unknown,
devoid of memories,
a melancholy calm,
immersed in unlacing fragrance.

Into arms of Satie and Sartre,
me not me but yet me,
a time stopped in past, present and future,
for it stays there.

there forever.



PC:http://janetgrosshandler.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/05/clouds-below.jpg