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Buds

Little hands soiled with earth, play dough, rocks, and the mud of the world.
Light and delicate, curious, kissed by the sun.

A stick to grasp, to learn how to help those who cannot walk.
A seed to plant life, a love to breathe.

Happy, carefree, free, cared for little hands.
Curious under the blessings of Heaven to explore what is True.

Intertwined in friendly fingers in a circle of light singing, of enchanted stories told by mothers and fathers.
Little hands to help blossom into enlightened people.

Little hands in the sun, soiled with radiation, misinformation, cell phone screens, manipulation, rocks, and the mud of the world.

A stick to grasp, to learn how to strike those who cannot walk.

Little hands, gloomy, sleepy, worried, dazed.
Curious, beneath the bombs from the sky, trying to separate the false from the true.

Intertwined in crossed fingers in silence, waiting for enchanted fairies, to listen to missing fathers, busy mothers.

Little hands to be uprooted from resignation, little hands that must be saved.

March Phoenix

l'Audio è realizzato con l'ausilio di programmi I.A, frutto di impostazioni personali e meticoloso lavoro di ricerca e creatività. Immagini e Testi Realizzate senza I.A.
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