Orange hearts and skies of blue
The stars of hope and continuity blazes through.
Soft low tones, the violin ends the line
I start to feel my heartbeat
The stars ask what are we pursuing
Amidst the breeze of the cold morning winds-
The tune reaches the peak that screams ‘of course we know it!’
Burning passion that will guide us through, it is the fuel of our desire
When we run, we’d only look ahead of us, the sky in front of us
Till we reach our ending there's no stopping for us
Even if we’d grasp nothing, it is the
Pride within the pursuit that
Is indeed the greatest.
19 was a number that
Froze the world. Cooled
The fiery hearts across the seas.
Yet since we clearly know our path,
Who cares if the world has gone cold when
It can be melted away with the hearth in our hearts?
We are like Surges of waves, not one, but countless of them
The violin intertwined with soft piano keys, and our mind is
Set on this journey that never ends, for we have so much to pursue

To laugh, to love, and to live like the surges of passion.

though i abide to reason,
for it answers my confusion.
but at times it’s an oblivion,
in some worlds unexplained.

the man with unexplained hunger
for that feeling is devastatingly ******
the owner said just eat the bread
but the men insisted to be a threat
so for bread and an overture was dealt

weirdly, He referenced the hollow,
with an underwater volcano.
whilst intellects tried to argue and reason,
He simply said it’s no symbol,
wickedly leaving everyone dumbfounded.

or about the girl falling down
into a deep but surreal void
cakes devoured and hot tea spilled
a place where roses are smeared
gladly she came back polished

masses of reading were conducted,
ideas that were intriguing but conflicting,
yet amidst all assumption and reason,
we may have been blinded,
there may be no secret to hide.

though inexplicable through reason,
i can still explain it with one reason,
for it is the art of nonsensical whimsicality!

hopping to a new Telephone line,
reaching out to a heart that’s fine,
Thoughts that linger and intertwine,
Trickling warmth on my skin speaks genuine.

thee may catch no sparks,
nor sweetness like jam tarts,
but thou is like a mirror,
reflecting thee’s lullaby in your world.
thou may be a Withering Rose,
but tis’ still radiant like Apollo’s.

“people whose hearts click in tune,
share and gaze at the same moon.”
though my rule is to not assume,
how would I know you won’t say goodbye?