WINTER RAIN IN SOUILLAC.
Somehow wet clouds dampen our good spirits and blunt our sparkling
disposition. Our soul beckons yearning for blue silver linings preceding a
wintry sunset...
Alas, it takes a curious hand to burrow into a water-laden rainy soil to
feel the essence of renewed life... Sprouting seeds unfolding in sheer
oblivion, or perchance awaiting a hovering feathered beak to be digested ...
When your eyes contemplate raindrops, allow your melancholy to transcend
the muddy flakes, and sense the fertile quietness of the seeds of our own existence
under our fragile human clay...
Sadek RUHMALY.
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