Today I felt that I was ready to return on WordPress. The days that are left behind seems to be burning more and more, and here in this little world of mine, there are instabilities in abilities to cohort to the new ordeal that I set myself unto.

Being exposed in the mist of the unreal
Travelling to and through the exponential realm of the night
And arboring a victimized face in front of a lost city
The air seemed fresh and splendid and cool
Just like the days where the flowering marigold were in bloom
Exposing it’s face towards a sun that would kill it at the end of the day
But then, there were the breezy torrent of love that appeased the day
Bringing the chance of a new dawn to be.

Christa.