In love’s country, language doesn’t have its place. Love is mute.
There is a light seed grain inside. You fill it with yourself, or it dies.
For years, copying other people, I tried to know myself. From within, I couldn't decide what to do. Unable to see, I heard my name being called. Then I walked outside.
Every moment I shape my destiny with a chisel - I am the carpenter of my own soul.
I closed my mouth and spoke to you in a hundred silent ways.
Water the fruit trees and don’t water the thorns.