17th February 2017, under flowing tears of the Desert Island sky, I write.
“Nothing is really gone,
nobody is actually vanish,
as memory of them lingers…
The scent of them is around us,
all the time.
They have become the air that we breathe.
Everywhere we go,
the scent caughts our mind,
and we let our heart to inhale it,
Until our soul forces us to let it go.
To let go the pain,
to let go the sadness.
Until we finally would smile again,
until we could breathe again.
we would breathe the same scent,
all over again.
Until everything ends,
until our life ends.”