Once I was lost on an island, in a crystal glasshouse. The glass was painted in blue, tainted with dark sketches of a once existed myth. There was then a lighthouse which stood afar the fields, across the streams. And the crystal rays from the lighthouse awakened the child in me. I, for once wanted to cross the silver streams, and reach the spark, to touch or feel. Emptiness… to fill the emptiness in me…
Maybe, yes – true.
They never said “Impossible”. Alas, the darkness around me and the absurd myriad sketches tattooed against the glass left my spirits wander like a soul sailing for his love in the wilderness.
Once I was in love, on an island. In that island, on that pretty stone, a sign was engraved. It read “Endless”. Irony…? Yes-true.
The dark angel in the myth had a smile fixed upon her face. In her eyes I saw the pebbles floating across the silver streams amid with the fallen stars. Stars… Moon… and the smog... When we yearn for the love of life, the spirits of any existing tales will shun away. Impossible - No, true. The dream and the grief lead the pathway filled with roses. Roses… They have whole lot of colors.
Once I was lost on an island… The island had pretty floras… And the dark sketches had many crossroads… Every crossroad lead to a pretty lane colored in grey and green. Today, as I look back, the memories and the signs of crystal bell blathers about a better dawn... The dawn… The dawn is too near… The dawn is right here… Impossible – No, True!
