Holy Land [Yet...]

Silenced

is the eye  of the wind

under the strike of the time 

You captured

all flourishing wisdom of the earth

Yet
 seasons beyond the sea

I challenged

all magnificent colors of the senses

And

as I turned

eye of the wave

blessed might it be, the daemon

breathing the eye of the windy gospel 

Beyond time,  

an almost deception

underneath the colors, 

an exact redemption

Yet

Mine is 

the Season of my holy Land

Mine is 

my wrong and mine is my right

Mine 

I kept the ultimate choice

mine 
to be my 

Life

___________________________

[c] Evangelia Hatzidaki

.....so fucking simple.... math of life!