The colorful butterflies dance with me, I am who is the aromatic tree. I open thousands sleeve over my face that comes from a distant nebula. Nebula that doesnot fit the devourers or the rodents.
Laying my hands as trunks dangle with breeze of the morning for the canarys and sparrows, meanwhile the pink color coronate the other side of the sun.
The time fannished in the black sheets and the love talismans were written by hot cloud rain draw from my eye at sympathy awhile. And in the path of roses. I look with the grace at the poor red dragonfly faltering in the throw of purpose. Oh, lost dreams in the kingdom of immortality between the bow and the arrow poison venom.
In the roses path, there are only the shadows headers in the courtyard bay, space smoke, fire attendants and a crystaly tragedies enveloping the bodies.
Laying my hands as trunks dangle with breeze of the morning for the canarys and sparrows, meanwhile the pink color coronate the other side of the sun.
The time fannished in the black sheets and the love talismans were written by hot cloud rain draw from my eye at sympathy awhile. And in the path of roses. I look with the grace at the poor red dragonfly faltering in the throw of purpose. Oh, lost dreams in the kingdom of immortality between the bow and the arrow poison venom.
In the roses path, there are only the shadows headers in the courtyard bay, space smoke, fire attendants and a crystaly tragedies enveloping the bodies.
Hassan al-Mahdi, Iraq
