When my hair is slowly turning gray
I’m not really looking ashed or wiser.
LOL! My time just ate a span of day,
bangs of heart it gorged for appetizer.
When my fortune’s made of solid gold,
I can’t say, that I am shine and glowing.
Happiness is poured into the mold
of my opened mind, because of loving...
“Loving” is a pious-flying word,
its elative wings attached to soundness,
that is You, indeed in me, my Lord,
as the Well of Infinite Profoundness.
.....................................
We are droplets in the Rain of Faith,
sightless slams against the Turf of Egos.
So much silence’s waiting for Embrace,
flying back to ourselves, amigos.
July 12, 2007
Iouri Lazirko
Copyright ©2007 Iouri Lazirko