GUEST PRODUCER TIME

  
  With each stroke, Time stops and then bounces away with ease. Through the cursed crossroads of hairpin bends and blunders, My blood carries its life-giving oxygen through the pessimistic hour of my restless existence. Deeply cut, hide-and-seek wounds, underestimated, murderous-treacherous brushstrokes dot the sub-surface layers of my face; my wandering, wandering soul. 

Where is my consoling Dearest, who with one glance of the Universe would heal my wounds, and on the ruins of new days would greet me with the Phoenix-silver of hope?! - Alas, for every misguided, derailed day Something is already to blame, and hard-earned trust may easily fall to ruin. I'd rather have a harmonious peace. All the adrenaline-addicted challenge-day, self-puffing, is now a useless show-off. 

The test of strength is always the nobler heart and morality. In the tangled chains of tragedies, we should not be looking for scapegoats. In guiding falls, the handful of chances of survival are also valued. Postponed ideas have not yet given birth to worthy careers, nor to the desire for a scholarly donkey-ladder! 

Every glance both makes you think and reflects something. The alchemy of essences, like a wide web of emotions, reveals itself in degrees, and from the true pearls of proudly worn tears that cling to the edges of the surfaces, a more honest self suddenly emerges. Where a single faithful gesture creates flaming, everlasting bliss, or a cherished, secret dialogue of kisses, where loving hearts, nourished by each other, can always return more joyfully, more balanced...