ZoeJhonson69

Do you want to know me, I'll wait for you

To be in love, my friends, is to find the good name for life.. It's finally finding the words to face death, it's necessary.. It's about recovering the secret key that opens the prison in which the soul is captive.. He rises from the earth with a force that claims from above.. He breathes the wide wind that is above the chair. It is to contemplate, du sommet de la personne, the raison des blessures.. It's to see a true look in the eyes that looks at us. It's to hear his own voice in a deeply repeated mouth.. It is surprising in certain hands that the chaleur du entreprise parfaite. It is suspected that, pour toujours, the solitude of our shadow is vanquished.. To be in love, to be friends, is to discover where the body and the soul meet.. It's to perceive in the desert the crystal voice of a river that calls us. c'est voir la mer depuis la tour where she was left our prisonnier d'enfance. He poses des yeux tristes on a landscape of storks and bells. He occupies a territory where the perfumes and weapons. It's to give the law to every rose and at the same time receive it from his sword.. It's confondre le sentiment avec a feu de joie that rises from the chest. is to rule the light of fire and at the same time be a slave of the flame. It's about understanding the conversation reflected from the heart and distance.. It's to find the way that leads to the kingdom of music without price.

To be in love, my friends, is to own the nights and the days.. It's forgetting between excited fingers the distracted head It's remembering Garcilazo when you smell the song of a forge. It's to read what the people write in space.. The first swallows, it's to see the star of the evening through the window of a peasant house.. It's like watching a train cross the mountain with the lights on.. It's perfectly understandable that there's no border between sleep and wakefulness.. It's ignoring the difference between chagrin and joy.. It's the vagabond at midnight confession of the bruine. It's to see in the darkness of the heart a little light and be in love, les amis, it's to suffer from space and time with sweetness.. It's waking up one morning with the secret of flowers and fruits.. It's to free oneself from self and be united to other creatures.. It's not a question of whether the choices are foreign or yours.. I am so sorry for your loss.. It's remonter to the source of the troubles of the torrent of anguish.. It's time to share the light of the world and at the same time it's time to share your dark night.. It's being amazed and happy that the moon is always the moon. It's to verify body and soul that the task of being a man is less difficult.. It's always to begin to say, and now you never say again.. And it's my friends, to be sure, to have clean hands.

Don't let the day end without having grown up a little, without having been happy, without having increased your dreams.. Don't let yourself be overwhelmed by discouragement.. Ne laissez personne vous priver de votre droit de vous exprimer, which is almost a duty. Don't give up the desire to make your life something extraordinary.. Don't stop believing that the words and the poems can change the world.. No matter what our essence is intact. We are beings full of passion. Life is desert and oasis. It reverses us, it makes us sick, it teaches us, it makes us the protagonists of our own history.. Même si le vent souffle contre toi, le travail puissant continue: You can contribute with a single strophe. Never stop dreaming, because in your dreams, the man is free.. Don 't take it in the worst of mistakes.. The majority lives in a frightening silence.. Don't give up on me.. He's running away.. «J'émets mes cris sur les toits de ce monde said the poet. Appreciate the beauty of simple things. We can do the beautiful poetry of little things, but we cannot fight against ourselves.. ♪ Cell makes life hell ♪. Take advantage of the panic that cela vous provoque.. Live it intensely, without mediocrity. Think that the future is in you and face the task with pride and without fear. Learn from those who can teach you. The experiences of those who have preceded us poets dead, They help you to go through life ». Don't let life come to you without you living it

Ton vieux cœur d'adolescent pose-le dans mes mains et laisse-le s'ouvrir dans les histoires, les arômes morts, bells and echoes of bells and the sound of bells. You come today to tell me, you come down from the mountains of your childhood, le tablier plein de fleurs et la peur de la forêt de pins dans tes yeux. Come and love me also; you know already how much it's little to live; repos ton impuissance dans la mienne, me disant ton âge de fille, sans mots. You, like me, au retour de la côte, or des forêts, or des montagnes, face à la vie or au printemps or au bord de l'année qui se termine, you think: les choses arrivent plus vite que nos yeux ne peuvent les contempler. You, like me, au retour de la côte, or des forêts, or des montagnes, face à la vie or au printemps or au bord de l'année qui se termine, you think: les choses arrivent plus vite que nos yeux ne peuvent les contempler. You, like me, think: the things arrive faster than our eyes can contemplate them.. To dream every minute I lived, it would take him a year.. You'll have days of dead reads, like letters, having released all his nobility for the day when you appear before the Lord.. You come back in les rêvant lentement, to the ephemeres things you left barely touched; don't stay there, half hurried, like oranges. You're going to improve everything now because what was, after death, changes.. You assembled a couple of toys of memory, the light fishing boats, with the name in black letters on the green and white knot, when, in the afternoon, the high breeze-lames He receives them in his vast shadow; the seasons in the plain, the sky in the light of the sun that walks.. But now that I love you, gather your prints with mine; like children with their prints of the world, the colour of strange lands.. We will walk together in the fields in laughter without glance, of the hours past; we will speak slowly in the afternoon, moving the deep coffers.. Now that it's time, don't turn into anything, and from this little girl let's take a day to God, our hands are full.. Les deux souvenirs confondus nos hiers ne font plus qu'un, et de lui, dans un rêve commun le possédant, notre avenir unique est né The two souvenirs confused us here and now, and of him, in a dream common to him, our unique future is born. Weaving together the tissue of souvenirs we'll carry like a shroud, we'll sleep with the days of the past each day of tomorrow.. Every hour with a souvenir apparent and resonant, every image of thee among my own s'emmêler mal, tout dans une telle confusion grandit et porte ses fruits, ce qui s'est passé avec ce qui se passe, et chaque chose se déroule dans le temps; comme ton cœur, bien-aimé, ça sent les vieilles sources And without end it unfolds and spreads in sounds, in echoes and echoes, like the carillons recalled.

If you can keep your head up when everyone around you They lose it and blame you. If you can keep believing in yourself when everyone doubts you, but you also accept that they have doubts. If you can wait and not get tired of waiting; or if, being deceived, you do not answer with deceit; or if, being hated, you do not incur hatred. And yet you don't think you're good or wise. If you can dream without dreams dominating you; if you can think and not make your thoughts your only goal; if you can meet triumph and failure, and treat these two impostors equally. If you can bear to hear the truth you said, twisted by the wicked to deceive the fools. Or see how everything you gave your life for is destroyed, and roll up your sleeves to rebuild it with worn-out tools. If you can stack all your winnings and risk them on a single game; and lose, and start over from the beginning and never say a word of your loss. If you can force your heart, your nerves and your tendons, to achieve your goals long after they are exhausted, and thus resist when you have nothing left but the Will that tells them: "Resist!" If you can speak to the masses and maintain your virtue. Or walk with kings, without despising the people. If neither friends nor enemies can hurt you. Yes, everyone can count on you, but not too much. If you can fill the incessant minute, with sixty seconds of assiduous work, to you belongs the Earth and all that it contains, and - what is more -: you will be a Man, my son!

I've spent half my life seeing women in pieces: a clavicle, a fesse, a mesange, a pubis in a subtle confluence.. Des fragments d'amour dans lesquels j'ai déversé the prosaic concept of beauty. Cela semble superficiel Je sais mais pour trouver des trésors, your creuses de l'extérieur et je n'ai vu que des fragments de la carte I know but to find treasure, your creuses of the outside and I have seen only fragments of the menu. Once, I fell in love for a month and a half with a knee.. And for a while I wanted the two paupières of a girl until I discovered what they were hiding.. C'est comme ça that I've lived until'à maintenant love the pieces of a female puzzle that I'd been afraid to finish. Because any morning I saw from afar an ear that didn't match those ankles or hands that insulted the beloved pair of shoulders. Sans parler de l'oeil impertinent qui commençait à me juger d'un nombril oblong I was not to be seen with the eyes of a fool. And more nothing was the same. À toi à la place I saw you finish the première fois that you t'est nu en trois secondes. Je t'ai vu complet en tant que scientifique I saw the perfect formula in a glance or a sculptor saw the siren under the marble. I didn't know if I should stay with your vertiginous cou with those palm bras the rocker handles of your hips the black holes in your eyes your mouth kissed by the vin the signature rose et parfaite de I'm going to tell you something.. Sans parler du vice sur ton cou l'invitation au péché qui crie dans ton dos or ton cul et sa tentation reversée I'm not going to lie to you, you're not going to lie to me. I could continue phalange par phalange onglet par onglet. But faced with the difficulty of choosing one of your pieces, I have no choice to love you all.. And so on until now I've only spoken of what's happening outside. What's inside is a mystery I examine blindly because all clairvoyance would be an insult to you.. No one knows what a panther looks like inside no one can claim to know the specific weight of the wind nor predict the elans of affection in gravissant the ladders the storms that obscure the look of the men of time or the gusts of your desire that are bursting The autumns and they make them sprout. I don't know if this poem was about the weather.. I'm sure I'll try to touch you without cards all inside without negligently touching you outside.

Unfortunate is the poor in spirit, for under the earth he will be what he is now on earth. Unfortunate is he who weeps, for he has already taken the miserable habit of weeping. Blessed are those who know that suffering is not a crown of glory. It's not enough to be the last to be the first. Happy is he who does not insist on being right, because no one is right or everyone is right. Blessed is he who forgives others and he who forgives himself. Blessed are the meek, for they will not indulge in discord. Blessed are those who do not thirst for justice, for they know that our fate, unfavorable or merciful, is the work of chance and the impenetrable. Blessed are the merciful, for they are blessed when they do mercy and do not expect reward.. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God. Blessed are those who are persecuted for the sake of justice, for justice counts more for them than their human destiny. No one is the salt of the earth; no one at any time in his life is. Let the light of a lamp be lit, even if no one sees it. God will see it. There is no commandment that cannot be broken, and also those that I say and those that the prophets have said. He who kills for the cause of justice or for a cause he believes right is not guilty. The deeds of men deserve neither fire nor heaven. Do not hate your enemy, for if you do, you are somehow his slave. Your hatred will never be better than your peace. If your right hand offends you, forgive it; you are your body and you are your soul and it is difficult, if not impossible, to establish the boundary that divides them. Do not exaggerate the worship of the truth: there is no man who, at the end of a day, has not lied with reason many times. Do not swear, for every oath is an emphasis. Resist evil, but without surprise and anger. You can turn the other to someone who hurts your right cheek, provided you are not moved by fear. I'm not talking about revenge or forgiveness; forgetting is the only revenge and the only forgiveness