I cast my glance far away
As my eye spreads the silence of the blades of grass.
I am wondering, unbearably
Does any blade die
Without the knowledge of the whole field?
I slowly adhere to nature
To that world of stunted herbs.
The words became petrifield with unision,
In the infinity of thoughts,
While I merge the pictures of the unbearable
Torrid city asphalt and
Entwined thicket in the murk of the sky.
Wailing of the city melt into the abyss
Freeing itself form the harmony of the width
Of boiling sky of Sahara and
Without the intactness of silence
In true greenery.
Photo Nick Victor