Picture this, with words

.

.

.

.

without hardness
without harshness
without stones, without all the love
and hate, without death or birth
without knowledge of life
without love I stole

I wouldn’t be aware
I couldn’t feel

the softness and the sweetness
of the hardness, the harshness of the stones
of the love I hate, of death and birth
the knowledge of evergrowing pains

my soul

.

.