She smiles under the shade of silent dusk,
Grievings lay under the mask of indulgenes
to witness the procession of Life Walks,
and the moments elapse like spirit of the darkness.
The lament of her sorrows enchanting
clogging up the emptiness of her heart
with its secrets
then the heart is about to rupture
for weeping is filling up its veins,
voices of passions are so sweet:
But the musical of heart is the cry of Glory..
To put our feeling into words
-and to later read our own words-
is a healing experience.
