Dandelions.
So, as I am sitting in the balcony on my "rest" day, gazing at the silk floss tress already blooming with their lilly-like pink and white flowers, and all the calyxes just inspiring the air, I'm bound to be good friends with poetry. I love poetry. Sometimes, I mean to write a song but it ends up being a poem. I'm not so good of course, but poetry is just my mystical, unearthly language to express the conversations I have with nature and my own spirit. Prose is not always very efficient, is it? So, this poem was inspired by a beautiful observation that shall haunt me with its mystery and beauty. Everytime I just think of that day, I fall into a beautiful daydream. It was June twilight and we were driving near the fields and forests, and there was this one piece of land fully covered by yellow dandelions and some purple dainty flowers, the grass was short and there were some trees encompassing the field. What actually haunted me was that soulful mist ascending from...