Tigu

Slowly Slowly
I know that the mountain
Will be there next morning
 
If you do not understand the silence you won’t understand the words. What is there to be understood? What is there to be seen? Pictures are passing by and all we can do is catch a careless glimpse of them, sometimes not even that. Why so sad though? Here comes the sunrise, full of pale unpredictable changes, bright hope and dark red memories. It is more than an image – it is a state of the world, movement of the world. Still yet changing, eternal yet so quick.
 
Sliding down
Forgot myself near that stone
But now it is gone.
 
It all depends on the picture that is in front of you – dark long road, green hills, mesmerizing sunrise, love, fear, eclipse before Gods descend to Earth.
 
Shadow is so short
And the road is long
I have a map.
 
Who visits all these cities that are marked between the pages of the map. You know when you turn the pages over they get lost and you cannot read the map properly, may be because of their location or may be it is just the fault of the map. Are they lost? Is there a way to go? Is it possible to visit them? Will they accept us?
 
Slowly Slowly
I know that the mountain
Will be different next morning
 

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