Arrival in the world is really a departure and that, which we call departure, is only a return.

Before the first before and after the last after, there is night waiting.

Those who hate rain hate life.

I enjoy it when the world smiles; the more smiles, the warmer I am.

A hidden spark of the dream sleeps In the forest and waits In the celestial spheres of the brain.

Oblivion cures the old wounds.

Why poetry, you ask? Because of life, I answer.