Muse: Sun Streaks

Sun Streaks What happens when the day comes to an end? That’s a question worth a million dollars, and people often have varied responses. I find myself quickly captivated by the setting sun, leading me to scribble down words or phrases that come to mind. This magnificent view never fails to distract me from the… Continue reading Muse: Sun Streaks

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Sunset

What’s your favorite time of day? What does the sunset mean to you? For me, it’s time for rest. It’s also a time for reflection, a time to put the pieces together. However, overthinking kills the fun. Letting the day’s stress slide is crucial. So count your blessings. Even the sun rests, a quick reminder… Continue reading Sunset

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Beautiful Sunset

And here is capturing my favorite part of the day in pictures and few words! Taking it all in: the fresh air and breeze guided by tree canopies, the tree leaves falling, twisting and waving goodbye to sunset, the tiny worm crawling home under the brushes, the solemn rocks sitting harmless, the peaceful hills overlooking… Continue reading Beautiful Sunset

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Shadows
Fall behind the mud huts
They paint soulful images,
Like the web tent of a black widow
Hanging like a carefree skeleton
And the brown stains from hands
Old or fresh which design the walls

Silhouettes
Fall behind the palm trees
They draw strange figures,
One like the village masquerade
which dance heartily on happy festivals
The other like the mad man
who travelled all about the hamlet

The sun travel home after the days work
And all we have become is an airy evening

Gods masterpiece, my inspiration

The clouds sing of Your Glory mighty One The wind surf the mild waters of the ocean Nature is just one of  Your Great masterpiece The Earth is Your masterpiece She spins up the space like a speck of dust Which fall with the others when it is time The snow melts down into the… Continue reading Gods masterpiece, my inspiration

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The sun set slowly
The grey dusts of time
Sink as the dark come
As the birds fly away

The winds become softer
It lets the moons sign
Come upon the clouds as a print
The smell of burning grass rent the air

The golden color of the wheat
Which stays when the sun shine
Turn grey as the day travel
The sights of men become dim

The clouds are quiet
The moist descend also
Evenings are solemn
As the airs go fresh