Love, it resurrects itself

Death is like an unavoidable piece of art
So in life,to die, is nothing new

and to live is not for eternity

It may be not hard to love again.

 

For beauty is ever new

We search for it, but it is in our eyes

We move, even with the harshest legacies,

In a strange hope of unfathomable satisfaction

 

From beauty to another kind of living

Every Revolution demands sacrifice

Every season, demands a change

 

The tradition of love that becomes life

and from life, it buries us to death

That in truth, is nothing new

We can never really live forever

But love, it always resurrects again.

Reviews

[Vidya Bacchus]

Again a most interesting write we are here for a time we are born we live we die this is our reality.Great piece.
;)