Trial for Magic
How hard it is becoming day by day to stir up the feeling,
to bear a whirlpool of roses, butterflies, and a lavender-ridden fragrance
And swirl along with them as if surrendering myself to the sheer force of love.
I'm too complacent, though, to let myself free of everything and binge into such a ride.
If not love then what is life,? I ask.
But what about the so-called 'finding your love' task?
Oh, it's like stopping the winds with my hands and ordering the moon to be full every day
And to walk miles and miles until starting to fly in the air
and then be put out on trial for yielding the magic.
to bear a whirlpool of roses, butterflies, and a lavender-ridden fragrance
And swirl along with them as if surrendering myself to the sheer force of love.
I'm too complacent, though, to let myself free of everything and binge into such a ride.
If not love then what is life,? I ask.
But what about the so-called 'finding your love' task?
Oh, it's like stopping the winds with my hands and ordering the moon to be full every day
And to walk miles and miles until starting to fly in the air
and then be put out on trial for yielding the magic.
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