Halos of angels standing above hair the color of gold, wings moving slightly in a heavenly breeze, meanings and their definitions of earthly life being detected from time to time.
Heavenly rhythms keep us moving, rocking to beats that come upon our minds in the silence of what we used to know and live through.
Pacing back and forth through thousands of memories, losing ourselves in patterns and designs of an interior disguise.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem