Our home is where the suns arms can't reach
where the moons sadness exist from the joy of the world
Born by caves and river banks
cleansed to purity by pebble and salt streams
waters that sing an eternal song
We are shadows of past living
no daylight can find us
What rivers won't take
and what oceans won't keep
We captured the breath of life
among the monsoons that blew
with the anxieties of the world
and stored them in gulps inside our lungs
We are our own misfortunes; bitter but thankful
We are the shame the night hides
never to be found.
Picture:
https://wouter28mm.wordpress.com/2013/12/15/time-helps/
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