| After,
the cold darkness,
in the heart of the forest.
Where birds are singing,
for the new born sun
In the womb of the leaves,
on the branches of the trees,
lies the treasure of the morning,
the pearls of light.
Carriedd away by thee truculence of my world,
I got lost in the surch for enlightment,
The blue ran,
Covereed my roots and I forgot where I came from.
Carriedd away by thee truculence of my world,
I got lost in the surch for enlightment,
The blue ran,
Covereed my roots and I forgot where I came from.
8> |
Inculte.
