and how they hide a billion ancient stories behind the universe's skies.
And how my story wouldn't pass as mine but as ours.
The thing with the hidden memories is that they are only leftovers of a
Sometimes I daydream about the little things
and how simple life should be; wondering how the elixir of hope tastes.
The thing with people is that neither a bunch of smiles nor the words
written on a paper are able to make one's day.
If only we felt the beauty of simplicity...
We'd be laughing as kings and queens
of the north, west, east and south.
I wouldn't mind passing that summer accompanying the wind.
Sometimes I daydream of forgettable meanings,
like the joyful feeling of my guardian angel's presence;
a chime more pure than any nocturnal flower that bursts open,
more powerful than any force of time.
Sometimes I daydream...
Perhaps that is why it is called a daydream.
Because like a promising summer day,
it offers a galaxy worth of light, warmth and hope.
I mustn't forget they are only dreams,
and that the sun has to set sometime-
even in daydreams.