Still air

It is an early morning but
There is no birdsong
There is no moonlight either
There is just still air.

There was a dream but
It is no more waking up
There is no memory remnants of
What it was, still dreaming.

It is an early morning and
There is unfelt pain
There is no memory remnants of
An early existence
There is only still air.

October 25, 2017

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About alaindesade

Novelist, songwriter and philosopher. Has special interest in human relations, evolution of mind, inter-cultural complications, and the concept of God.
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