I thought I found him; I made it this far, thought it was the end but it wasn't. Where I am?Where is he? Are we in the same world?
He left like a summer facing autumn. I found him but never thought I can't keep him. Life was an amusement park filled with lights and people laughing and talking holding hands, and now life is the same, but lights are not there neither the people. I should say it's not a similar scene, but now I don't know what the same is and what different is. I'm like a person who slept in a coma, and when he woke up he woke up with an amnesia.
Like the voices of audiences cheering for there idols, his voice used to call me. like new year's eve filled with fireworks his eyes looked at me, bringing joy to my soul and making everything transparent, where are you? I can only ask one person about him… Where is he? Asking me. no one but me can find you again, or should I say find myself again?
No time to wait, and you're getting further and further, I'm not saying goodbye and I will never do, I will not see you again, I'm seeing you some place over there, behind my heart, I know you're here, you never really left, I feel your breath in my heart beats.
You can see me through the voices and noises looking for you, you can hear my movements through the lights, I'm blind without you, I have eyes which can see, but I need your sight that can hear and smile, I need your senses.
It's different now, sun shines everyday, but it doesn't bring up hope and joy everyday, not in the days when you're not here, you said "I'm the burning flames of the raging suns" and I don't know I'm I really the burning flames? Did you mean you are?
I see your face through the vogue, you're coming closer, forcing tears to come out of there shelter and stream down my face, you never were lost, I know… we're one again…
What about now? Can I start building my room of passion? Can I start putting away all the broken pieces of my dreams? Nothing to fear… hurricanes walk through thousands of miles thinking damage will stay forever. Inspirational skies covering the cold poles are made by the burning flames of the raging suns.
You're not a candle, candles will eventually die, but you never will.
