User Review( votes)
written by: Anahit Arustamyan
The spirit is a script that lies between the lines.
The phantom seems mystic to the living ones.
The angel was a human once upon a time.
Life paints a canvas with a destiny's brush.
How many brushes might belong to life?
The sky smiles so do I.
The sky cries so do I.
The sky smiles with the sun's eyes.
Doesn't it talk with the stars' tongues?
Maybe yes, but the voices don't arrive.
I ask God what the phantom is like.
O no, this question must be given to life.
I ask God what life is like.
Past, present and future seem to be zigzag lines.
Which is mine?
I dare to ask life.
''Present''! Isn't it life's reply?