Even if the light is dim,
I will see her golden stream again.
I will tread quietly in the shadow familiar,
I will grasp, touch and hear…
I taste even in absence
the smell of light still lingers…
Photons are full of feelings…
Once lit, in the dark it prints.
Wherever she passed,
her tracks are in a bird’s eye view
in the fireflies, in the lighthouse, rediscovered,
she is actually love, to god a priestess…
Only in radiance is love born…
And that’s how I found you, in the sparks of the night…
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Dessy Tsvetkova
Picture Nick Victor
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