The uplifting music in space

Another sound out of an darkend sketch, oil painted amber gray canvas, literature that the

universe sampled from the rest of the returns’ the coliding planets were, with-holding their mass .An empty place where there is no sky, nore the horizon wouldt limits its atmosphere.

less than sound masked rivers, still wavering under sand and pebbles the dune outscaped the flee of resistance of they that wanted change .

would achitecture were no soul has found  the obsession, in  creation that has hide features  from the unkwon builder, have given a name.would God design a future, escape from the ruines of chaos ,profoundly without a word unspoken to the the inner-knowings of man.


Among us the eglited,defined like no ones ever would unraffle the mystery performd by the musians that gave life to their words.


Restains of the day

Weathering clouds silently sailing on dustfree breezes gathering in a prayer unheard silence the wave that parted ,combined effort lies thrue a field of heaven

strokes of dust coloring seemless and so much more,dew of morning ,children last but food.In green fields they morn in the awakening of  the day.

When.. gave me a peak of silent thought, my skin pearsed, with some of me and some of you.You seemed …to very close if one of your desires grew up,then you ran.

And still i am ..very close not years of distant, but close i came, many years are left.

The memory , the restrains of the day.All i needed was to be discoverd of the pale gray colors well known thinkers in world that already live their lives in history.

Your fingers turn the pages of childhood freeing yourself ,the mind and body,the dance with white ivory of slain. creatures in the rain so their tears were never seen.

I can i will make a new begin,children are left behind the curtain ,fear has lasted in time ,in time,the road bricks pavement so the well,the source,joy and lasting laughter.





The old fashion sway

Tickling season on their way ,rounding on the way they say

rhyme..that old..way in that happy thing

i’m an old fasion’dnt man the drum-beats on the streets when i’m  bleu..Tray.take..tick.riddle

slang little spooky tobleldiddle dang ..

copper brass tunes grey dark clouds winters way to say

tickling seasons on their way..