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“A Butterfly in a Concrete World” – Nayana Nair

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now i only remember her smile.
it is stuck in my mind like a song.

now all i want is to be the reason
of the this beautiful spring
on the landscape of her face,

just a bird who sits
on a branch of her heart,

just the the light
that passes through her fragile wings.

“Her Words” – Nayana Nair

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He tries to mould his tongue and his lips
so he can speak his words her way,
so he can speak his own name as she used to.

“Strangely” – Nayana Nair

Empty Streets - Raleigh, NC | From our Raleigh photo services studio, Haeck Design offers a wide range of photography and photo editing services.

Strangely,

her heart no longer sounded like

an empty room,

an empty stage,

an empty world

with only her voice.

Strangely, for once

a voice came into this emptiness

and filled it with warmth

greater than her,

greater than her sorrow.

This poem, that she held in her hands.

This poem, that she holds in her eyes

that she holds in her tears.

Makes her feel as if

finally she is not alone.

“Out all night”- Nayana Nair

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Every night
I saw that girl
who roamed the dark streets
with eyes filled with smoke
and feet swaying with confusion and power.
With clothes that reminded me of night sky.
She was out all night
to paint the world
in the color
of her black beautiful broken heart.
The many masks of her
hung by her wrist.
They smile, sneer and look down
at the faceless shadows
that are bound to disappear.
And though it always puzzled me
how she could smile,
after breaking so many people.
I finally understood
how it could be so hollow
and so fulfilling at same time.
I finally understood all this
the morning when I woke up as her.

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La cosa importante è di non smettere mai di interrogarsi. La curiosità esiste per ragioni proprie. Non si può fare a meno di provare riverenza quando si osservano i misteri dell'eternità, della vita, la meravigliosa struttura della realtà. Basta cercare ogni giorno di capire un po' il mistero. Non perdere mai una sacra curiosità. ( Albert Einstein )

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Miłość nie istnieje w sobie, ale w nas, jest naszym osobistym dziełem. " - Marcel Proust

La poesía, eso decían

Como plasmar la idea natural.

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- MyNewPerspective ... seeing the world through different eyes -

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