Your voice soon begins to crescendo
I fall too,
into a deep
but sacred sleep.
I was equivocating in days prior following the holy martyrs who had wept in times before me
Inked were my words into the air of yours.
there is company like the sip of one's favorite coffee, a type of simple bliss enjoyed, peace, the same as solitude where different voices can blanket the other's words and talking is done to the rhythm of fresh thoughts.
wistful we are with trembling hands, and porous are our defenses against nature's shower it sweeps in rhythms a mixture of old with new a touch of words, it evaporates petrichor, these shared remains and someday in a moment's hesitation, it will begin all over again.
After the EU-Turkey deal you would assume that these Syrian refugees had better prospects to secure asylum. If a deal as such is miles short of a success, then is there really a safe haven for these refugees after all?
there's an ocean
we describe as