Added Oct 7, 2016
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Writing a poetry as digging , writing a poetry as traveling,writing a poetry as feeling,writing a poetry as philosophy,writing as idea,writing...
Horses abandoned
In gloomily morning
I pick up the sword,
sword of tears,
not one tear drop.
In the fog I was searching
for my self,
my self in the mist.
My sherd was firm,
solid,
whit open space for the air.
I kneel down in front of stone,
sword of tears never rest.
Fighting battle started yet,
no I was not too late.
Swinging hard,
whistles through the air,
cold steel dance,
dance in the morning light.
Armor creak,
in the rain drops of fresh breeze,
noise from rustling of the leaves.
In gloomy morning,
one day I,
abandoned my horses
away.