what pity we get

for a broken heart

and what if we let

us falling apart

rails come crashing

a lifetime’s not enough

to manage all this rushing

and the death comes from above

this is my forest of hope

but I don’t find a way

walking through my nightmares

while I’m searching the escape

forest of hope

and I don’t mind if they

are walking straight beside me

cause I’m on a separate way

– Bleib Modern – Forest

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=y9LSZJ7CKnM

I see that you are heartlessly clever.

For you know how to Love,

but not Forever.

You still return to me in flashes,

so strong it clouds my Mind.

The fire has turned to ashes,

and yet, you’re not behind.

– Meraaqi – Divine Trouble

I hold my head up just enough to see the sky

And when we go we won’t go slow we’ll put up such a fight

When they fade into the dust and into ash

But all children know this pain will surely pass

Strong and wise and you are love

And When the tide it come you will float above and

And you will be one day exactly what you are

Just keep your head up high kiss your fist and touch the sky …

– Shawn Lee’s Ping Pong Orchestra – Kiss the Sky (Mark Pritchard Remix)https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=taHBWElQvJg

I could never tell where inspiration begins and impulse leaves off. I suppose the answer is in the outcome. If your hunch proves a good one, you were inspired; if it proves bad, you are guilty of yielding to thoughtless impulse.

– Beryl Markham – West with the Night

There are all kinds of silences and each of them means a different thing. There is the silence that comes with morning in a forest, and this is different from the silence of a sleeping city. There is silence after a rainstorm, and before a rainstorm, and these are not the same. There is the silence of emptiness, the silence of fear, the silence of doubt. There is a certain silence that can emanate from a lifeless object as from a chair lately used, or from a piano with old dust upon its keys, or from anything that has answered to the need of a man, for pleasure or for work. This kind of silence can speak. Its voice may be melancholy, but it is not always so; for the chair may have been left by a laughing child or the last notes of the piano may have been raucous and gay. Whatever the mood or the circumstance, the essence of its quality may linger in the silence that follows. It is a soundless echo.

– Beryl Markham – West with the Night

Ph : Albert Finch