I wanted to write the most beautiful poem but that is impossible; the world has written its own.

It is beautiful to talk about beautiful things and even more beautiful to silently gaze at them.

A hidden spark of the dream sleeps In the forest and waits In the celestial spheres of the brain.

A word into the silence thrown always finds its echo somewhere where silence opens hidden lexicons.

Unborn eternity does not die; existence is dying and falls asleep in the eternity beyond existence.

I lose faith in mathematics, logical and rigid. What with those that even zero doesn’t accept?

To jump over centuries In one step is impossible. Jump too high or far, You’ll be way too late.

His Highness was always confident in his statements, especially about what he viewed for the first time.

Vandals listen only when others are stronger.If vandals are equal or strongerTheir word is the last word.

Trying too hard to be too good, even when trying to be bad, is too good for the bad, too bad for the good.

There is another alphabet, whispering from every leaf, singing from every river, shimmering from every sky.

Senses empower limitations, senses expand vision within borders, senses promote understanding through pleasure.

You are hurrying to the sweet place, To the nonsense chasing your spirit And in the nonsense you look for answers.

In trying to be perfect, He perfected the art of anonymity, Became imperceptible And arrived nowhere from nowhere.

Every man needs his Siren To check his courage and strength When he hears her song In his travels through the unknown.