Monday, 26 January 2015


Which was lost, maybe that wasn't -
mine, then why often chasing
the shadow, indeed, in
the crowd of world
nobody has
time to
look back, alike the far-reaching train
the life has to run, running back
acacia tree, wet land or flock
of sparrow, all scene
gradually, becomes
the part of
transient memory, that's the reality of
life, an unaccomplished journey
or the search of endless
destination or a
saline thirst
of sea
remains as usual in the heart alike - -
the wandering resonance
in fog - -

* *

Art Out of the Mist by Artist Judith D