Reading Time: < 1 minute
An evocative poem, by Kamrun, about wild air, wandering traveller and more, exclusively for Different Truths.
In a silent spring with a misty wild air I can listen to the songs of a wandering traveller. Buds of trees tell the stories of spiritualism. Discuss religion, postmodernism, beliefs and psychographic issues. Windows are open, Bees are dancing in beehives and gossiping with chirping birds. Wandering travellers forget their path. The flame trees are shining bright, Ravens are screeching And shouting that spring is over. The wild air becomes lissome, It overcomes drunkenness and becomes very calm. Spreads the vibe of communalism, generosity and flexibility into the open blue sky. In the meantime Nature finds its own form, Finding thyself in between a goer. That is why there is no distance between the path and the passer-by. Two moves like parallel wild winds. And spring taps the door after wintertime.
Visual by Different Truths
