For all the people who are on the night train alone thinking about the beauty of the world - lonesome reflection

For all the flowers that bloom after long winters

For all the unsung heroes who were once villains

For all the mistiest of souls who were once lost but now found

For all the bloodshot nights and days that go untouched by love

For all the cowards that will brave the fear

For all the boys and girls without a father figure, and a mom's

For all those addicted to those betraying kinds of love and beauty and who don't yield in to anymore

For all the momentum poets understand and lose

For all those people who will find love and for those who won't

For all those that struggle with forgiveness and want to steer clear of hurt

For all those that fail to creep into the cosiest of don'ts and do's

For all those that risk their lives to gain eternity

For the eternal, sacred time component orbiting around historical time

For all the love left untouched, spread on the crumbs of humanity and the failure of a promise

For all those unspread layers of niceties that hold true to a direct approach

For all the dappled sunlight that shines through trees in late afternoons while squirrels are playing and woodpeckers are hammering on

For all those slow trains that travel through the gorge through tunnels carved in stone, sort of time tunnels stuck as in a time capsule revealing bits of wonders - leaves and berries you could touch out of the train windows

To your soul window that opens into other shut windows, soul windows, and does not care to shut but stays open

For the small towns, seemingly innocent and pure, when no soul is there to be seen in the early hours of the morning. Then, as the day is progressing, the town would eat away at its light while the dark would still dig the light out - rocks of the solid foundation

Photo: Personal Archive

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